When I First Met You
by aks- s
Summary: They got drunk and have no idea what happened next.
1. I

**When I First Met You**

**Spoilers:** Season 4 and before.

**Disclaimers:** Not mine, end of story.

**Summary:** They got drunk and have no idea what happened next.

**Acknowledgements:** For Kerry.

**Author Notes:** This is a _total_ AU where Donna never made it New Hampshire, thus never had the pleasure of meeting Josh or suffering through Mandy or Amy for that matter. If only we were that lucky... Assume Bartlet has won re-election and is in his second term; Sam is still a member of the Senior Staff and not a Congressman in California, although I have yet to decide if Sam lost the race or if he never needed to participate in the first place.

**Feedback:** Love some.

** When I First Met You    
I   
**

Oh God, what the hell? My head is pounding, my mouth is dry and the foul taste of morning breath mixed with... something... is making itself very clearly present. Strangely enough, though, my body feels sated and...

There's a warm body pressed up against me. There's a warm body with long blond hair pressed up against me. There's a _naked_, warm body with long blond hair and a stunning expanse of pale skin snuggled up against me. I'm staring at her back, to be more precise, I'm staring at how the rippling movement of the deep red silk sheets expose more of her spectacularly curved and pale back.

I take a look around and note the papers on the table across from the bed, my backpack inches away. At least I know this is my room. I should probably move. I should probably get up, get dressed, and try and figure out just who the hell this blond is. Also, it might be a good idea to figure out what the hell she's doing in my room, in my bed, _naked_. Well, yeah, ok, I can take a guess as to what she's doing here, but... what the hell happened? I don't remember leaving the party with a woman; in all honesty, I don't remember much of the party to begin with at all.

* * *

"Hey, Idiot boy, in my office. Now!" CJ's shouts across the bullpen.

Both Sam and I look at each other. "She means you." It's a little scary when we do that you know, say the same thing at the same time. Sam gives me a pointed look and I realise that she was actually referring to me.

"You think she's jealous?" I ask as we both walk the short distance from my office to hers.

"CJ? Jealous?"

"Yeah, you know, because of this weekend."

"No one's jealous, Josh."

I smirk. "You are."

He sighs. "It's not fair that I didn't get invited."

"That may have something to do with the fact that you don't know anyone going besides me and Mike. Don't worry, Sam," I start as Sam heads back to communications and I go into CJ's office. "I'll live it up for the both of us," I call after him.

"I think that's what CJ's afraid of," he mutters, grinning.

I enter CJ's office in a jovial mood. "So, are you jealous?" I ask. I'm bouncing. What can I say? I have the weekend off with absolutely no work to do and I get to spend it relaxing with friends. I repeat-- I'm bouncing.

It's annoying the hell out of CJ.

"Jealous?"

"Yeah, you know, because I'm going away for the weekend to Vegas, to a party held in honour of one my best friend's last night of bachelorhood."

"Bachelorhood?"

"Yes, CJ. A weekend of doing things that men do."

"Josh, the day I'm jealous of 'men doing the things men do,' hell will not only have frozen over but I'll be coming up with--"

Yeah, I get the point. But I really don't want to listen to this so I interrupt her, "I am in a good mood. This you shall not ruin for me," I proclaim.

"You want to place a bet on that?" She's grinning.

No no no no... God, no, I've been looking forward to this for weeks, to get away from the White House and work and well, everything. Don't tell me I have to cancel, anything but that.

"Relax, idiot boy. I just have some rules for you."

"Rules?"

"Yes Josh, Rules. After the last bachelor party debacle, I think rules are in order."

I pretend not to remember. "The last debacle?" But really, how am I going to forget being subjected to endless lectures from Leo and the President?

CJ glares at me.

"My assistant wouldn't bring me coffee for a week," I gripe. Coffee is essential if I'm to function in any way in the morning. Alice knew that and yet she refused to bring me coffee.

She got reassigned the next day. She never was a very good assistant.

"Your picture ended up splashed across all the tabloids and all you remember is Alice not bringing you coffee! I swear to God, Josh, if that happens again then a motherboard shoved up your ass will be the least of your problems. Got it?" I nod. What else am I going to say to that? And the motherboard thing is getting a little old if you ask me. "So here. Read this." She hands me a piece of paper.

"What this?"

"The rules. I wrote them so you'd have no excuse for not following them."

I read through the list. Number one-- no getting drunk. Number two-- no leaving the hotel room. Number three—

"Ok, first, number one is just plain ridiculous. It's a bachelor party."

"I know. Hence, the rules."

I'm staring at CJ like she has two heads. "You get drunk at bachelor parties; it's like, the law!"

"Stop whining. It isn't and if you want to live to see the next day, you won't."

I am _so_ gonna get drunk. How the hell is she going to find out? And I don't whine.

"Why in the hell would you think I would do number three, CJ?"

"Do I really need to bring out the pictures?"

Point taken.

Number four reads: Don't sleep with the stripper. There is an addendum to this rule that says 'Don't even think about telling me there isn't one.'

She's right; it's a bachelor party so there's really no point arguing that one.

I read further down the list just for amusement's sake when I get to number ten.

"CJ, how stupid do you think I am? Number ten?"

"Josh, your stupidity has no bounds."

* * *

I'm pretty sure I broke rule number three last-night.

Ok, take a deep breath Josh. I rub my one free hand across my face, since the other is currently under the smooth expanse of her stomach, holding her possessively against me. She really has amazing skin; it's actually glowing, but that may have something to do with the activities of the previous night, or even this morning— and shit! My pagers beeping; the noise is waking her up.

"Morning." For some reason, I'm exceedingly calm for a guy who just woke up in a hotel room with a strange naked woman beside him and no recollection of the previous night.

"Hey." Her voice has a gravel like quality to it, almost as if it's been put through the ringer over the past few hours. I don't think she realises where she is right now.

It's strange when you can tell the exact point at which someone is about to get hysterical, and yet you can do nothing to stop it. Like now, as she jumps from the bed, taking the silk sheets with her, wrapping them tight around her amazing body and chanting _ 'Oh God'_ and _ 'What the hell have I done'_ over and over again. It takes her exactly two seconds to turn on me by which time I manage to secure the remaining sheets around the lower half of my body.

"Who the hell are you!"

"Ok, not so much with the shouting," I state, willing my head to stop pounding as her shout reverberates through my head.

"Who are you?" Her voice is deadly calm.

"I could ask you the same question," I shoot back, sitting up.

"I asked first." She's flushed and the contrast of the crimson sheets against her pale skin only makes her look more beautiful.

"Yet we're in my room," I point out once I stop myself from staring at her exposed skin.

"I... well... who the hell are you?"

I should tell her that we can work out whatever happened last night. I should tell her that I'm a good guy who wouldn't intentionally do anything to harm her. I should tell her that I'm currently suffering from a massive hangover so anything that happened last night is really not my fault. Most importantly, I should tell her that. Instead, I say, "My pagers beeping. I should get that."

"Uh yeah," she nods, looking dazed.

"It's—my pager is near your foot." God she has amazing legs. In the back of my mind I'm remembering snapshots of those long, smooth legs wrapped around...

"Oh, right. Here." She tosses me the pager, along with my cell phone. "I should... I should probably put my clothes on."

"Yeah, me too." There's an awkward silence as we both stare at each other trying to figure out how we got here. In my room. Naked. With at least four condom wrappers on my nightstand.

I performed at least four times last night? In my drunken state? Wow.

"Shouldn't you answer that?" she interrupts my thoughts, pointing at the pager.

Ok, no wait, I remember experiencing... some... technical difficulties. It took a couple of tries to remember how a condom actually worked.

It figured that of the short-list of things I actually _do_ remember about last night, that would have to be one of them.

"Yeah," I sigh. I can't help but watch her as I dial out on my cell. She's trying to avoid my gaze while looking for her clothes, which for some reason have ended up in every corner of the room. She seems to have everything but is still looking for something else.

"What's wrong?" I can just hear the thought, 'Besides the fact that I woke up with a strange guy in his hotel room and apparently had sex with him?' running through her mind.

"Nothing—well, I can't find my underwear," she admits hesitantly.

"We took that off in the cab," I answer immediately. Wait...

We did? I remember kissing her in a taxi, and I remember-- Ok, not going there.

She gulps. "We did?" That came out in a squeak. "You took my underwear off in a Goddamn _taxi_?" That, not so much. My head is about ready to explode. "What the hell were you thinking!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one there." She looks mortified, her expression now miles worse than the one she had only seconds before. I mentally review everything I just said and realise how it could be interpreted to mean something else entirely. "No, I meant that you were there too, not another person. I didn't mean there was a third party involved." I'm rambling, I know." I just meant that whatever happened between us, you consented to--"

"You know, if you don't want to get your ass kicked I suggest you shut up now."

I'm about to argue but I can't seem to find the energy so instead I just say, "Yeah."

A moment goes by, in which we both contemplate what the proper etiquette for the morning after a one-night stand with a complete stranger is. The last time I did this was before Mandy, and things have changed since then. I'm not sure what was acceptable then, is acceptable now.

"Your phone's talking."

"What?"

"The phone, in your hand, someone's talking." She seems flustered.

"Oh. _Oh_, Sam?" I say into the phone.

"Hey, do you have a woman there? Am I interrupting something? It's not the stripper from the bachelor party, is it? Cause, CJ might have something to say about that."

"No, it's just room service," I answer, giving the woman whose name I have yet to discover an apologetic look as she goes into the bathroom to dress. "You paged me," I tell Sam.

"Yeah, you were supposed to call in for staff, but you didn't and Margaret couldn't get a hold of you on your hotel line--" I reflexively look at the phone and realise that sometime during the night it must have gotten knocked off the nightstand, "—and you weren't answering your cell phone either."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh.' Anyway, Leo wants you to check in. Congressman Rippon is in Vegas-- he's actually staying in your hotel right now. He checked in this morning-- and Leo's arranged a lunch meeting for you."

"Is this a formal meeting?"

"Nah, his fiancé is gonna be there too. This is just an off the record introductory thing."

"Ok."

"Are you sure you're alone?"

"Sam, I don't have a stripper in my room. I can't even remember if we had one last night."

"It was Mike who organised the bachelor party right?"

"Yeah." Sam knew this one already so I answer as if I'm stating the obvious.

"You had one."

"You're probably right."

I hope to God she's not the stripper. She's not acting like one—although how one acts is not something I'm well versed in.

"Anyway, how was it?"

"It was good..."

"And?"

"Mike hooked up with someone." And he wasn't the only one.

"Really? What was she like?"

"That I can't remember," I answer as _my_ mystery woman comes back in dressed in an amazing long ivory dress that makes her look... I'm not sure if she looks better with her clothes on or off. "Look Sam, I need to take a shower and get some coffee if I want to at least appear awake before I meet with this guy." I also need to find who I slept with last night.

"Yeah, sure. Talk to you later."

"Yeah," I answer as I hear the phone click on his end.

"So," she starts.

"Yeah?"

"You should get dressed."

"Um, yeah, that would be a good idea." Since I'm currently naked underneath the sheets.

"Do we need to talk about...? I mean, I've never done this before and I can't believe this happened. So I... we... you won't tell anyone, right?"

I'm pretty sure she's not a stripper and I'm about to tell her that many women would love to wake up with me after a night full of what I'm sure was passionate, mind blowing, earth shattering sex, but I notice a look of fear in her eyes and I find myself needing to calm her rather than sell myself as a lover.

"No. I promise, whatever happened last night, or even this morning, stays between us."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Ok," she nods. "Ok." She's quiet for a moment and then, "How could I have let this happen! I'm not the one night stand type, and I can handle my alcohol, and I don't go off having sex with strangers!" 

"Well--"

"Wait, are you sure we," she gestures with her hand back and forth between us, and I'm assuming she's asking if we actually had sex as opposed to just ripping each others clothes off and falling asleep. I don't answer but look at the nightstand where the empty condom wrappers lay as evidence. Her gaze follows mine.

Resigned, she sighs, "Yeah, stupid question."

"Aren't you hung over?" Don't ask me why I feel the need to ask this. "Don't you have a headache at least?"

"I'm sorry?" She's confused.

"I'm pretty sure a lot of alcohol was consumed last night and I know I have a migraine coming on. I'm also pretty sure I look like death warmed over. You, on the other hand…"

"'I, 'on the other hand' what?" she challenges.

"I meant you look--" You look gorgeous, I think, but stop myself from saying the words just in time. She looks scared enough already. I think that admission would only make her more scared. "You don't look like death warmed over."

"Oh. You should put your clothes on," she repeats.

I spot my boxers lying on the bed and pick them up. "Could you," I make a motion with my fingers for her to turn around.

"Oh yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

"So," she starts again, once her back is turned.

"So?"

"Have you done this before? The one night stand thing." Is she making conversation?

"Not for a while now, no." I can see the tension increase in her shoulders ten fold and I feel the need to alleviate some of her worry. "I mean... this isn't something I do every day either." For one thing, I don't have the time to pick up women.

"When was the last time?"

"About... eight years ago."

Boxers on, I find the rest of my clothes and hastily don them.

"Oh. Do you remember what happened last night? I mean, you remembered the panty thing with the taxi."

"No, I just—that was a fluke."

"Me either," she breathes.

We both become silent again and for the first time I take in her appearance. She's tall and willowy, with long, blond hair. She has an incredibly innocent looking face and her skin is just so... I find myself with a problem I've never faced before; I can't find the words to describe her.

"I shouldn't be here," she announces suddenly. "I should go. We've said that we won't talk to anyone about this. It was a lapse in judgement that no one need ever know about," she prattles on while I walk past her to retrieve my watch from the dressing table. The scent of sex still permeates my skin, and if I want to move on with the day I need to take a shower. Otherwise I won't be able to think of anything but her and what we did, or didn't do. I smile at her and watch as a blush rises in her cheeks. I'm pretty sure I'll be thinking of her for a while to come, regardless if her scent clings to me or not.

"No one needs to know," she repeats to herself slowly.

I pick up my watch and notice a credit slip and piece of paper on the dresser.

Oh no. This can't be happening.

"Is your name Donnatella Moss?"

I read the sheet of paper once again and, catching a glance at my hands, I'm pretty sure what's written there isn't a mistake.

"Yes," she stretches the word.

Leo is going to kill me. And then CJ will bring me back to life to kill me again. Of all the stupid, harebrained, reckless, cockeyed things I could've done.

My stupidity really does have no bounds.

"Not anymore," I joke. If I don't laugh I'll cry. This can't be happening. Leo is going to throw a fit, and my mother—

Well...

"What do you mean?" Apprehension is radiating off of her in spades.

"It's now Donnatella Lyman. We got married last night."


	2. II

****

When I First Met You

II

"You're wrong."

I wish.

She's been quiet for the past five minutes while I've been trying to think of all the ways I can to make this not happen.

Well, actually... no.

I've been staring at this stupid marriage licence wondering how the hell I managed to get so drunk, do something so monumentally stupid, and yet stay sober enough to actually look like I was of competent mind to repeat the goddamn vows in the first place! I mean, surely the minister, or who ever the hell it was that performed the ceremony could tell that we were drunk? That we were in no way able to comprehend just what kind of stupid ass mistake we were about to make?

"We are not marri—we're not. You're wrong," she repeats.

"You know, repeating the words doesn't actually make it so," is my automatic response.

"Well acting like a jackass does make you one."

"Excuse me? A jackass?"

"I believe that's what I said. And you're wrong."

"Not according to this piece of paper."

"It's a fake." She's grasping.

"So we have a fake marriage licence because...?"

"I don't know, but there is no way we got married. It's not possible."

"Why?" When I woke up this morning my body was freakishly relaxed, but now, thirty minutes later, the sated feeling I woke up with seems like a distant memory. There are parts of my body that sadly haven't had much exercise of late and due to last night's activities, are screaming in distress. The mother of all headaches with which I woke up has only grown, to a point where my head is ready to explode. The only thing keeping me sane at the moment is the thought that if I don't fix this, the hell I'm in now will be nothing in comparison to the one Leo induces.

I need some Advil. And sleep. And to not be married.

"Because I say so," she states walking into the living room.

"Well, that clears everything right up," I quip. I finally take a close look at the credit slip on the dressing table and my jaw drops at the number of zeros staring back at me. "Holy mother of--"

"What?" she screeches panicked, rushing back into the bedroom.

"I spent over ten thousand dollars on--"

"On what?"

I just point to her finger. I spent over ten thousand dollars on a ring for a complete stranger?

What the hell was I thinking!

"So, you're a generous drunk," she questions. I'm still staring at the zeros, to shocked to reply. "It is beautiful," she adds.

At that price it'd better be.

I look at her finger and find myself whispering, "It suits you." She looks up and for an instant we're both standing still, staring at each other, and every part of me is ready to quit worrying about what the hell happened last night and take her back to bed and— Noooooo no no no no. Not going there. I need to get unmarried. I need to get unmarried and I need to do it before Leo or CJ find out. "So, we're married," I state.

Again.

"No." She shakes her head adamantly, walking back out to the living room. "You were drunk; you bought me jewellery. In no way does that support the contention that we are married. We're not."

"Because you say so," I follow her, incredulous.

"Yes," she nods, looking for her other shoe.

"Ok." I think I need a strategy. Why does the morning after always have be harder than the night before?

"Since that's all cleared up, I'm going to go."

She's a nut. I married a devastatingly beautiful woman with a nut short of a—what the hell is that saying? Why is she not accepting this?

"You're not going anywhere." I may have been a little too forceful there if her body language is anything to go by. I stealthily move toward the door to block her way.

"I beg to differ." She has her shoes and purse in hand, ready to leave. She can't honestly think ignoring this isn't going to make it true, can she? "And do you think that jumping in front of the door is enough to stop me from leaving?"

Ok, so I may have exaggerated my level of stealth, give me a break; I'm hung over. I'm just glad that I have enough presence of mind to stop her from leaving.

"Donnatella..." She looks at me expectantly. "I'm sorry," I start. "This is... this is just..." Ok, I need to talk, I need to remain calm and I need to talk. The question is, where to start? "Just say for argument's sake that we are... married," I choke.

So much for remaining calm.

"But we're not, so what's the point?"

Is she always like this?

How could I have married someone so stubborn and obstinate? "Work with me here, just assume that paper isn't a fake, ok?" She nods. Reluctantly. "We should do something about that." You know, like getting it annulled.

"But we're not married Josh," she reiterates. I raise my eyebrows at the mention of my name. She blushes, "I remember... " she starts waving at the bed and I think it's my turn to blush as I recall just when exactly she said my name. Screamed it in fact.

Repeatedly.

I didn't think it was possible to do what little I remember doing.

"Donnatella--"

"Donna. You—then..." her blush deepens as she points to the bed again. "So just call me Donna."

"Sure." I walk up to her and take her left hand in mine with a gentleness I don't ever remember employing before. I'm not sure what else to do to convince her that paper isn't a fake. It may have been insinuated by some that I'm not a real lawyer, but I can most definitely recognise a legal document when I see one. I rub her fingers softly, feeling the cool platinum band of her wedding ring under my thumb. "Donna, we _did_ get married last night."

She's quite for a minute and then takes her hand from mine. "No. We didn't."

Screw it.

"For God sakes! Do you really think that waking up with a strange woman and finding out that I married her is something that I _want_ to be faced with?" Yeah, ok, the gentle thing I was trying out before totally flew out the window there. "That piece of paper isn't a fake, we got married last night, and actually managed to consummate the marriage, so deal with it!"

"How the hell would I know! I don't know you! And you think that a piece of paper proves we got married! How the hell do I know you didn't create a fake?"

She can't be serious.

"How in the hell would I do that?" I actually managed to sound somewhat reasonable there. "_Why_ in the hell would I do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have a warped sense of humour. How do I know that this isn't some stupid--"

"Stupid what?"

"--Prank; you and your friends trying to be funny. A cheap laugh."

"You think this is funny?"

"No! But you're too calm for someone to be—you're too calm!"

"So I should become hysterical like you? _That's_ what it'll take for you to believe me?"

Someone explain women to me.

"I'm not hysterical!"

"This is you calm? Because, if that's the case, I really don't want to see you hysterical," I joke. She glares at me. "Just trust me on this, I have a great sense of humour, one which many fail to understand, I admit, but this is not in the realm of things that make me laugh. For starters, I'm going to be subjected to years of torture when I get back home."

"Why would you—Oh my God! You have a wife!" I think if her voice were an octave higher, glass would break.

"No," I laugh, "That I could deal with—not that I'd ever cheat on my none-existent wife," I add quickly. "I have to deal with Leo."

"What?" A little line appears as she narrows her eyes and squints at me; she's confused. And then she's mortified. "You're-- You're gay?" she shrieks, "I married a confused man?"

"Nooooo, no no no. Nope." For some reason the idea of her thinking of me as gay bothers me more than having her refuse to believe that we're married. "Leo's my boss." She still looks sceptical. "I am not gay."

"Why would your boss care if you got married?"

"He's—I have a sensitive job."

"Oh."

She doesn't quite seem convinced. "I am not gay."

"This isn't some thing where you need to sleep with a woman to prove to yourself that you're not, is it?"

"No! And if that was the case, don't you think the sex thing would have been enough? Would I _really_ have had to _marry_ you?"

"I don't know how your mind works," she shrugs.

"For the umpteenth time-- I. Am. Not. Gay! And could we _please_ try and concentrate on the fact that we got married last night and now need to find a way out of it?"

"Maybe that could be our excuse." She plops down on the couch in the centre of the room. I continue to lean against the door. I'm finding it a little difficult to follow the way she changes topics at the drop of a hat.

"What?"

"You're gay."

I sigh. "I'm really not."

"They don't know that. And how can you be sure?"

"Because I am. And what the hell would we say? That I was gay but I married you anyway? What idiot would believe that?"

"Our legal system primarily consists of idiots."

I smile at her.

"But seriously--" she starts, apparently enamoured with this idea, "We could say that we were drunk, which you know, isn't actually a lie. Anyway, you weren't sure of your sexual preference, but after consummating our vows, you realised you were gay and couldn't in all honesty uphold them. You look like a capable guy. You can sell it."

"I am not gay," I reiterate. She manages an indulgent smile at my insistence. "And after the night of mind blowing sex we had, did you think I would suddenly wake up and find myself wanting to switch sides?"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

Huh?

"What?"

"That we had mind blowing sex. Do you remember last night?"

I give her a significant look. "I'm good in bed." Out of it too.

"So am I," she asserts, looking indignant.

It's on the tip of my tongue to say, "I know; that much I remember." But instead I bite back the comment and say, "So you think two people good in bed would somehow _not_ have great sex?"

"It's not about being good in bed."

I'm confused. "It's not?"

"It's about clicking with the person you're sleeping with."

"Well, we got married, so I assume we clicked somewhere along the line."

"Not if you drugged me."

I sigh, "Yes, because of all the things I wanted to accomplish in life-- drugging a girl named Donnatella, and tricking her into marrying me, then having to get the marriage annulled and have my boss rip me apart for doing something so stupid in the first place was right up there with graduating from Harvard and Yale and serving the at the pleasure of the President."

"I don't know you. That could very well have been your goal; some people are very weird like that."

"Why are we assuming that I married you? You could have drugged me."

"Well, I do have access to the drugs," she ponders. "I'm a doctor," she elaborates as I stare at her with my mouth agape. I'm sure I was doing an amazing job of resembling Gail a moment ago. "But no. You must have drugged me."

"In light of what you just revealed, a convincing argument can be made that it was you who drugged me. You have access to drugs for starters, where as I do not."

"Yes, but I do not need to drug people to sleep with, or marry me."

"And you think I do?" She just challenged my ego. "I have no problem attracting women. I'm a very powerful man. I have my own fan club, too," I boast. "I walk out on any given day and women scream my name, asking for autographs," I add, indignant. That's not something just any politician can claim. Except, maybe the President.

"So then why did you drug me?"

"I didn't drug you!" I shout. I pace for a few seconds, and then as something clicks, I join her on the couch, sitting dangerously close. "You're very good at the avoidance thing."

"I am at that," she nods.

"We need to deal with this."

"I never said we didn't."

"No, you just thought it was better to challenge my masculinity, accuse me of drugging you to have sex, and generally avoid the topic of how we fix this mistake."

She graces me with a small smile.

"I would never do that," I state, my voice just above a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

"Drug you. Or anyone. I would never violate you or any woman. I'm not that kind of man."

She looks at me for the longest time, her face just inches away, but then averts her eyes, but not before I see embarrassment and shame flash across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that you would. I just... I don't think you would—that is to say, I don't think you're that kind of man."

We're having one of those moments again, where the sparks are just zooming through the air between us. If either one of us was to move right now...

"Josh," she sighs, "How can you be so sure of the marriage thing?"

"Do we really need to do this again?" Please say no.

"I just... I'm not the kind of person who does this. I've never had a one night stand with a stranger, I've never drunk to the point where I don't remember the night before. This isn't me. Asking me to believe that I married someone I don't know in a cheesy Vegas chapel is a little to much to ask."

"This isn't me either, Donna." It's more like Sam; it's definitely like Sam. She raises an eyebrow. "Ok, well, it is a little, I have drank enough alcohol to the point where I can't remember the previous night, and I'm not new to the one night stand thing either. But I've never woken up married before."

"Then why are you so ready to believe this?"

"Because the quicker I accept the problem, the quicker I can deal with it."

"Yeah," she smiles.

I breathe an internal sigh of relief; I think the shock has finally worn off and she's finally accepting the reality of the situation. I might actually be able to deal with this today and get back tonight for my meeting with Rooker tomorrow. Which reminds me, I really need to schedule a meeting with—

"Wait."

I really don't like having a sinking feeling in my stomach. "What?" Although, you'd think I'd be use to it by now.

"Oh. My. God."

What? "What?"

"You work for the President!" Oh shit.

Um... "Yes?"

"Oh my god. This is bad on so many levels."

"Why? You're not going to do a tell all exclusive for the press are you?" I joke. Or, at least I attempt one.

It fell flat I know.

She glares at me.

The actuality of what I just said sinks in and now I'm wondering why this thought hadn't occurred to me before.

I can just see the headline. I can see the little vain on Leo's forehead exploding. I can most definitely see Margaret running at me like a Linebacker-- with her treasured pencils ready to destroy all elements of my manhood for screwing up Leo's schedule, and you know, giving the guy a heart attack.

Let's not even begin to think about what CJ would do.

"I mean," I start, a nervous, bumbling idiot. "I can see the appeal... there's the money, not to mention the 15minutes of fame, and of course letting the world, or well, DC at least, know that you had the great presence of mind to marry me--"

If looks could kill—you get the idea.

"It's a bad idea, trust me, you just shouldn't do that," I finish quickly. I swear to God this mouth of mine will get me killed one day. I'm thinking today maybe that day.

"You think I'm going to go to the Press with this!"

"No. I just—well... you know--"

"No, I don't know. Explain it to me please."

'Oh shit' doesn't cover this.

"I meant—I didn't mean to imply— Look, I had to ask, you don't know CJ Cregg—she's the Press Secretary--"

"I know who she is."

"Right, well, if I didn't somehow get some sort of confirmation that you wouldn't... you know, she'd make my life a living hell for all eternity. She'd follow me to hell if need be."

"So, of all the possible ways you could have asked that question, _that's_ the way you chose to do it? Are you really that stupid?"

"Have I mentioned that I have this inability to keep my foot out of my mouth at the worst of times?"

"You're an idiot."

"Strangely enough, you're not the first to say that."

"Imagine my surprise." She's quite for a moment, her anger still in tact. "What do you do?"

"What?"

"What do you do? Your job title—what is it?"

She knows who CJ is but she doesn't know me?

Well, that's just wrong.

"I'm..."

"Yes?"

"I'm the White House Deputy Chief of Staff," I admit.

"The Deputy Chief of Staff," she mumbles, quietly. "The Deputy Chief of Staff," she repeats. I think she's having a little trouble digesting that little piece of information. "The Deputy Chief of Staff?"

"Yes."

"The White House Deputy Chief of Staff?"

"I think we've established that."

"You're not an idiot." She shakes her head.

"Well, thank you."

"You're an imbecile, a moron--"

"I take it that's a step down from idiot."

"How could you be so stupid? You work for the President!"

What the hell!

"You were there too, you know. How the hell is this all _my_ fault!"

"Because--"

Damn the stupid phone. "I need to answer that."

She doesn't answer, just continues to glare at me.

I pick up my cell phone and silently send up a pray to the Gods when I see the caller ID.

"I need you back here after your lunch meeting," Leo states without preamble. "And the notes you said that you'd get done on the flight down to Vegas, I need you to fax them over to me now."

"Sure Leo, just give me a minute, the fax is in the other room."

"You booked a suite?"

"Yeah." I figured there was a chance that by the end of the night there'd be some male drunken bodies in my room and I didn't want to be sharing a bed with them. I walk past Donna into the next room, and begin my battle with the fax machine, while listening to Leo do something that not many people know he does.

Gossip.

"Andi was due two days ago and its driving Toby nuts."

"Yeah?" As much as I want to listen to this, I have a wife in the room next door that Leo really should know about. I have no idea how much I managed to screw up last night, but I remember taking Donna's underpants off in a taxi, so I'm thinking that I wasn't all that discrete while doing... whatever it is I did. This is one of those times where Leo needs to be forewarned.

Also, if I tell him over the phone, I can keep the receiver away from my ear and zone out while he reads me the riot act.

So, um, here goes...

"Listen, Leo, there's something--" Wait. What the hell was that? It sounded suspiciously like a door closing-- Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—"Leo, I gotta call you back."

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah." Hell no. Absolutely not. I'm in hell.

"Ok, give me a call once you've finished with Rippon."

"Sure." And with that I click the cell phone shut and literally leap into the living room.

She's not here.

She's not here. I can't believe that she's not here! Let me repeat that for those who have yet to comprehend the situation.

She's. Not. Here.

My body's two steps ahead of my mind as I propel myself toward the door, only to run through an empty corridor.

Oh. My. God.

I can't see her anywhere.

Ok. Think logically Josh. She's shocked. She needs time to adjust, to digest, to—

_She's Not Here!_

I'm walking back into my room wondering what the hell I did in a past life to deserve this. Seriously? What? Isn't it enough that I have my very own watch police in the way of Ms Claudia Jean Cregg, to mock & kick my ass every time I so much as sneeze the wrong way? Isn't that enough? If not, we could always add the incessant calls from my mother about grandchildren. There's always Leo.

And the whole getting shot and living with PTSD thing.

Isn't that enough?

Obviously not.

How could she just up and walk away like that? Really? How insane can a person be?

Ok, she may be insane, but she's not dumb, right? I'm sure she's left a note with all her contact details somewhere around here. Right? Ok, so...

What the hell is it that I'm supposed to be doing now?

Think Josh. ... right.

The note.

There's a God in heaven, because she left a note.

I pick it up to see one simple line written.

_I need to think--Donna_

I am _so_ screwed.


	3. III

_**Disclaimers **__**et **__**al. **__**in **__**part **__**1**_

**Acknowledgements: **Simply for Christine, for being a great online friend and taking the time to worry, and you know, beta this. And to Kerry, for the one-liners that made me laugh.

**Feedback:** Love Some!

**When** **I** **First** **Met** **You**

**III**

"Whoa, dude! What happened here? It looks like a war zone."

"Mike, would you just get in here already."

"Seriously, what happened in here?"

"Nothing."

"Sure, I'll buy that," he says without an ounce of sincerity.

I'm tearing through the room like a madman in the hopes of finding something, _anything_ that will help me find Donna. I called the front desk hoping that maybe she was staying in this hotel, but no go.

Leaning against the bedroom door, Mike starts, "You know, I had a strange dream last night."

"What?" Nope, nothing left under the bed. Did we use the shower last night? We must have. Or maybe the tub? There could be a clue there; I should check.

"Yeah, so, you were in it."

Huh?

"Mike, seriously, you took a woman back to your room last night and you were dreaming about me? You don't see something wrong with this picture?"

"Hey, I didn't think of you when I was with her," he justifies.

"I hope not," I mutter.

I'd say he's glaring at me, but since I'm too busy searching for clues to locate the elusive Donnatella Moss, I can't be sure.

"I take it you don't want to hear about my dream." He sounds wounded.

But right now, I could care less. "You managed to figure that out all by yourself?"

"You wanna tell me why you're tearing through the room?"

Isn't it obvious? "I'm looking for something."

"Believe it or not, I managed to figure that much out for myself," he retorts.

"Glad to know our law enforcement personnel are as sharp as ever," I shoot back, distracted.

There is nothing here that will help me find Donna. Absolutely nothing. Not even a scrap of clothing with her name, address, and phone number written on the care label.

There are women who write those details into their clothes, right?

Right.

I am _so_ screwed.

It only now occurs to me that my good friend Mike Casper here could probably help me out. I mean, he's an FBI agent; he's trained in the art of finding people. "Actually," I start, "You know, you could probably help."

"I could?" He smirks.

Great, he's trying to be funny.

"Yeah," I nod.

"Why would I wanna do that?" he jokes.

My reply isn't humorous. "Because this is serious."

"What do you need?" he asks, automatically kicking into 'work' mode.

"I need you to find someone. A woman, to be precise."

"I'm gonna need more than just her gender, Josh."

"Her name is Donnatella Moss, she's a doctor, tall, kinda willowy with long blond hair…" I start, trying to remember every detail about the way she looks—It's not all that difficult. I close my eyes and I remember every nuance, every curve, every beauty spot. Images of her moving gracefully, even in the most heated moments of our--

Mike chuckles.

"What?"

"In my strange dream that you don't want to know about--"

"Could you possibly get to the point sometime today?"

"There was a girl--"

"With long blond hair?" My voice just went squeaky high there.

"Yep."

I have a sinking feeling that his dream, may not, in fact, have been a dream.

"What happened?"

I'm not sure I want the answer to this.

"I don't know exactly… it started off with you and— you know what, I don't think you're gonna want the details. Let's just say you had a… colourful evening."

Oh. So… um… oh.

"Oh, and you ended up marrying her."

I hate my life.

"How much of last night do you remember?" I ask tentatively.

"Not much. Why?"

"I'm just trying to piece together some events."

"Ok-_ay_," he nods, not comprehending.

Even though I'm trying my absolute best not to, I may sound a little desperate now. "I just need you to remember whatever you can."

"You were distracted, I think."

I was?

"There was alcohol, poker, and a stripper—and hey," he stops, sounding petulant, "She was all over you."

"The stripper?"

"Why the hell is it that the strippers always fawn over you?"

"I don't know, but can we move this story on?" I'm quickly losing any patience.

"Ok, I'm either not remember things correctly or—no, I can't be remembering this right." He's grinning.

"_Mike_."

"You had one beer, you were winning at poker, and the stripper was all over you—"

"And I wasn't interested."

"Yeah, she was doing, you know, her thing, the guys were all having fun but you were distracted, something about…" he takes a moment to recall the nature of my distraction… "Something about the way she laughed. Or was it her smile?" he shrugs. "Whatever it was, you couldn't stop thinking about some woman you met earlier, so you decided to go find… her…" He trails off as realisation dawns on him and he starts to chuckle.

"You know, you can stop laughing anytime now."

My-so-called-friend is enjoying my pain.

"You married her. You _actually married_ her?"

"Yes," I sigh, frustrated.

"So my dream wasn't so much a dream, as it was reality?"

I glare at him. "Yes again."

He continues to laugh. "In that case, I'd call CJ and give her a heads up, because the things I remember…" I should point out that he's still laughing. "Gotta hand it to you, Josh, I honestly didn't think you could top last time, but this… Wait till I tell the guys about this."

And I call this guy a friend. "You know that can't happen, right?"

"Relax, I was kidding."

"This isn't funny."

"Trust me, from where I'm standing, it is."

"I'm beginning to wonder how the hell this friendship lasted so long--"

"You actually married this girl?"

"Yes," I grind out.

"Do you know _anything_ about her at all? I can't even remember if you mentioned her name. You just kept muttering about how the stripper wasn't _her_."

"Her name is Donnatella Moss."

"Pretty, exotic."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"Hell, Josh, what do you want me to say? You married a virtual stranger." He proceeds to start laughing again and I glare at him. "CJ is gonna--"

"Mike!"

"Sorry. How do you need me to help?"

"You know what happens if CJ or Leo find out about this?"

"I'd be more worried about your mother finding out," he mutters, still grinning.

"I'm trying to deal with one problem at a time here." I really don't want to think about my mother knowing about this.

"Sorry. Ok, so what happens _when_ either CJ or Leo realise you got drunk and married a stranger?" he asks rhetorically. "You get your ass kicked?"

My ass is not the part of my anatomy I'm worried about. "Your ass isn't gonna be safe either, my friend."

"Me? What the hell did I do?" Bless him, he actually looks afraid.

"You're the sensible one. CJ expects this of me—well not so much the getting married, but you know, 'Doing Something Stupid When Drunk' thing. You, though, she expects you to keep me in check."

"You're forty-three years old, she doesn't think you can take care of yourself?" I give him a look. I have no idea what the 'look' is saying, but I give him one nonetheless. "I guess not," he mutters. I glare at him. "It could be worse."

How?

He answers my unspoken question with a grin that literally looks like it could split his face in half. "You could have gotten drunk and married an ex—your ex's aren't women that CJ wants you married to."

I glare at him.

My ex's aren't women _I _want to be married to.

He clears his throat. "So, um, we need to find—sorry, what was her name again?"

"Donnatella Moss."

"And she's a doctor. Tall. Blond. Willowy?" he recounts.

"Yeah."

"What do you remember about last night?" he asks.

"Not much, snippets of things we did - Donna and I - but not any conversations, just… things," I say, struggling for an appropriate way of saying all I can remember are moments when we were… connecting. Intimately.

"She left while you were sleeping? So she probably doesn't remember getting married."

"No," I sigh, "I woke up with her. We got dressed and then realised we did more than just have sex last night. Leo called and she left when I wasn't looking."

"She just left?" He's incredulous.

Welcome to the club, buddy.

"Yep. She didn't leave an address or a number, so I have no way of contacting her--"

"And you criticise my taste in women."

"--Which means," I talk over him, "I'm married and I have no freaking idea where my wife is--"

"Making it harder for you to work your way out of this situation, hence you needing me to find her," he surmises.

"Yeah, so if you could get right on that, it would be great."

"Sure." He takes out his cell phone and hits speed dial. "She's a doctor, right?"

"Yeah. At least, she said she was."

"We can track her through her medical licence then."

"Really? We can do that?"

What the hell? I am _losing_ it. I _know_ we can do that.

"Josh, I know you've woken up with a shock to the system, but seriously man, pull yourself together."

I stare at my shoes and nod, slowly.

"Also, I'd give CJ a call."

"I was kinda hoping we'd get this resolved before I have to get back to DC. All CJ has to know is that there was a problem and I fixed it."

"Josh, jokes aside, you woke up married this morning. You don't want Leo, CJ or your mother to find out about this from someone else, and since you got married in Vegas, it's not all that implausible that they will."

"I guess."

"Yeah, hi, just give me a sec," Mike answers into the phone. "I'm gonna…" he nod's toward the living room, leaving with one last pointed look at the phone on the nightstand.

I bite the bullet and hit speed dial on my cell phone wondering if it's at all possible for CJ to make sure I can never have any children over the phone.

*

"Which rule did you break?"

I'm pretty sure I broke all of them, but what CJ doesn't know won't hurt her.

I hope.

"And good day to you to, CJ."

"Which rule did you break?"

"Didn't your parents ever teach you how to answer the phone?"

"My parents raised me just fine, Josh."

"Well, I would have thought that, but by the way you answered the phone--"

"I know you and I know that you're about to ruin what was shaping up to be an agreeable day by giving me a colossal headache, so I've decided to skip the pleasantries."

She's right, but still…

"That hurts, CJ. You have no faith in me."

"You missed staff."

I nod even though she can't see me.

"Yes."

"Margaret called you six times, paged you four times and had your assistant call you another four times. You failed to answer the phone repeatedly."

"Er… probably."

"No 'probably' about it, Josh. You didn't answer the phone."

"No," I concede, "I was sleeping."

"Josh, when in the last five years have you managed to sleep through your cell phone ringing?"

"Never?"

"So I know at the very least you got drunk."

At the_ very_ least.

"You're freaky, you know that?"

"I'm not freaky, Josh, you're just predictable."

What? I am _not_ predictable.

"I am _not_ predictable."

"What ever you say, mi amore." Content that she's messed with my head enough, she softens her tone and asks, "So, did you have a good time last night?"

"Yes." By all accounts I had a fantastic night last night. It's just this morning that sucked. "CJ…"

"Yeah? Wait--Come in! Hold on a second, Josh," CJ stops.

"Message from Cleo: Leo wanted Josh on the two o'clock flight back, so she switched his reservations," Carol states.

"I'm supposed to let you know you have a two o'clock flight back."

"Yeah, I got that. It's not all that difficult since I'm on speaker phone."

"Someone's in a good mood. So, you were about to make me jealous with stories about what a great time you had?"

I have absolutely no idea how to start this conversation.

"You know how you're always saying that I should meet a nice girl and settle down?"

I'm going for the featherweight approach.

"Josh, I have never said that."

"Are you sure? Because--"

"Yes, I'm positive, Josh, I think you're mixing me up with you mother there."

"Press Secretary, Mom, what's the difference really?"

"The difference there, Idiot Boy, is that unlike you're mother, I have no qualms about destroying your manhood and making sure you can't populate the world with little versions of-- Wait. Wait. You _met_ someone?"

"You could say that," I mumble.

"_Seriously_?" Why is she sounding shocked? It's not all that implausible that I could meet someone.

"Yes."

"Met someone as in one of the regular women you have trysts with? Or actually _met_ someone?"

"My 'regular women'? What the hell does that mean?"

Another voice casually booms across the phone. "You know, some over educated twit in the political field who thinks she has more power and political prudence than she actually does."

I'm sorry—What?

That is _not_ an accurate description of the women I date.

"Carol, he can hear you." CJ's trying her best to hold in her laughter.

"I thought you just took him off the speaker phone."

"Well, I didn't."

"Oh," is her only reply. "I'm gonna go back out there then." I assume by 'out there' she's referring to her little cubical outside CJ's office.

There's silence for a few moments.

"You can speak now, Josh."

"I'm not on speaker phone anymore am I?" I need to be sure here.

"No, you're not."

"And we're alone?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"_Josh,"_ she growls.

"The support staff spends time assessing my girlfriends?" I ask, my voice a little high.

"They like to gossip."

"Should I be worried?"

"They have you pegged down as some kind of Casanova, so I wouldn't worry about it right now. Although your taste in women has been questioned time-and-time again."

"I can live with that."

"Except…"

"'_Except'_ what?"

"There is some debate as to how… _considerate_ you'd be."

They can't be serious.

"_Considerate?_ You've got to be kidding me, right?"

"Nope. Apparently, they think your need to have everything done yesterday would be carried into your love making."

"That's not funny, CJ."

"I know, Josh." I can just see the evil twinkle in her eyes.

"Tell them to ask Mandy, or Sarah, or Joey. Hell, tell them to ask Amy even. I'm all kinds of considerate!"

If I ever find Donna, you can ask her too.

"Yeah, about that, you don't want them asking Mandy."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Women like their revenge, Josh."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"You have to do something."

"Like what? It's just the Senior Assistants gossiping. Forget about it--"

"I don't think I will forget about it."

"--Oh, and probably the interns. I'd add to that the women on the Hill and some men, too. Hell you know what, I'm sure every woman in DC has at some point discussed your skills as a lover, Josh."

"You're playing with me here," I realise.

"Yes, but it's probably all true. So, back to this woman, is she the next one-month-relationship?

"No."

"_So_…?"

"'So' what?"

"Josh! Tell me about her," she commands, impatiently.

"She's--" What am I supposed to say to that?

"Yes?"

I really have no idea what I can say about Donna.

"I did something stupid last night."

"Like what? And more importantly, were there any witnesses? And we're getting back to this mystery woman," she warns.

"I have no idea if there were any witnesses, but there was an accomplice."

CJ answers with an eloquent, "Huh?"

"I got drunk last night--"

"That's not news to me, Josh."

"--And while I was drunk… I ah, I kinda got married. And I don't really know her all that well."

CJ tries to hold her laughter in for a moment, but then can't help herself. I haven't heard her laugh this freely in a long, long time, which is shame since she has an amazing laugh.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said you got married last night."

I don't answer.

"Josh?" I'm staring at my shoes. "Josh, you're not serious, right? You didn't just live out a cliché, did you?"

"It gets worse."

"Oh God, please don't tell me you married a First Daughter."

"CJ! How much of a idiot do you think I am?"

"YOU GOT DRUNK AND MARRIED SOME STRANGER!" Damn. My ear. "And you want to know how much of a _dumb-ass_ I think you are!?"

Point taken.

"This is exactly what we need, Josh. The White House Deputy Chief of Staff acting like some drunken frat boy getting his boxers in a twist and marrying some floozy."

"She's not an idiot or a floozy CJ. And besides Mike, myself and obviously Donna, no one knows that the White House Deputy Chief of Staff got married, so _calm down._" At least, I hope no one else knows. I don't think the guy who married us would have a clue about my position.

"Her name is Donna?"

"Donnatella Moss. She's a doctor."

"And she knows who you are?"

"Yeah."

"And you're sure she won't tell anyone about this?"

"Based on her reaction, I highly doubt it."

"Her reaction?"

"She freaked when she found out who I was."

"Oh, ok." CJ takes a deep breath and then remains silent for a moment. "I need to talk to her. Where is she now?"

I lie through my teeth and pray like hell that CJ doesn't see through me. "She's out talking a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah." Please, please believe me.

"You let her leave your sight?"

_Let_ isn't the word I'd use.

"Yes."

"She woke up married to the White House Deputy Chief of Staff. She probably needed a moment," CJ muses out loud.

I hope to God that's all it is. I really can't understand otherwise why she would just leave without letting me know how to find her.

"When are you going to tell Leo?"

"I don't know. I was kinda hoping to fix this mess before I have to tell him."

"You need to tell him though, you know that right?"

"I'll tell him when I get back later today."

"And why does Mike know?"

"Huh?"

"Mike, how does he know?"

"He was there, when we, you know, tied the knot-- Don't get pissed at him CJ, he was pretty out of it too." I suddenly remember something with complete clarity. "And even if he wasn't drunk, I don't think he could have stopped me."

"You don't think he could have stopped you?" she repeats, incredulous.

"No, he couldn't have," I state, resolute.

I can hear CJ's mind whirring through all the implications of that statement, and I'm truly surprised when she doesn't question me further.

"Ok," she sighs. "What are you going to do now?"

"Become an expert on Vegas annulment laws and procedures," I answer lightly. My mind can't handle any heavy discussions right now.

"Josh, what do you want me to do if I get the question?"

"I don't know, but keep her name out of it."

"Josh--"

"I'm not kidding, CJ; Keep her name out of it."

"Josh, what did I tell you about the rules?"

"I swear to God, CJ, this will never happen again."

*

"So, did you find her?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I know she specialises in paediatric medicine, she's from Wisconsin but she's teaching at John Hopkins at the moment--"

"And?" I inquire impatiently.

"She's never broken the law, her parents are still alive--"

"Mike."

"Look, I called her home and got the machine; called her parents place, left a message to call me back as soon as possible. I called the hospital in case she left a number for them to contact in an emergency, but they wouldn't release the information. The only thing they would tell me is that she isn't due back for two more weeks. I can't tell you where she is right now."

"What about her cell phone? Did you get a number?"

"If she has it with her, it's not on."

"So what do we do now?"

"Hope like hell you didn't scare her away and wait for her to call?"

"Thanks," I start, sarcastically. "Thanks so much for your help there."

"No problem."

Damn. I have less than an hour until lunch and three hours before my flight back.

What the hell do I do now?

Think.

……… "_Yeah, she was doing, you know, her thing, the guys were all having fun but you were distracted, something about… Whatever it was, you couldn't stop thinking about some woman you met earlier"………_

"Ok, you said that I was distracted."

"What?"

"Before, you said I was distracted when the stripper kept making a play at me. You said I kept thinking about her which implies that I met her earlier in the day. You think any of the other guys were there with me when I first met her?"

"It's worth a shot," he shrugs. "I'm pretty sure I was there for your… initial meeting."

"But you don't remember it?"

"No."

I put on my suit jacket, grab my wallet and the key card to the room. "So let's go find someone who does."

*

"Well that was a massive waste of time."

"Josh."

"Now what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"You could try calming down."

I don't have the energy to glare at him-- that's how frustrated I am.

"They only thing they could remember was that they thought she was hot." I don't need _that _reminder.

"From what I remember they're not wrong there," Mike grins.

Well what do you know? I do have the energy to glare.

"I gotta say, I've never seen you get quite so possessive over a woman."

What the hell? I raise an eyebrow in question.

"They were only commenting on her hotness."

"Would you stop saying that?"

"Why?"

"Just—Because."

"You know, most men would be flattered that other guys think their wives are hot."

"Most men don't like other men ogling their wives." I scowl at him. "_Especially_ not their friends."

He smirks. "Sure." He checks his watch. "So what do you want to do now, Sherlock?"

"Isn't this your area of expertise?" I shoot back.

"You both got drunk last night."

I have absolutely no idea where he's going with this.

"It stands to reason you went to a bar, possibly one of the ones in this hotel. Someone could know where she's staying."

Something clicks in my brain and a memory comes rushing back. Every instinct in me wants to smile, but my mind brings me crashing back to reality.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm beginning to realise it's not going to be easy to walk away from this if I can remember everything," I sigh.

"Why do you have to walk away?"

I stare him for a moment.

"Come on, we need to go check out any place that sells alcohol in this hotel."

"Yeah."

*

I spend the next half hour banging my head against the proverbial brick wall because none of the bar staff know of Donna's where abouts. Meanwhile, my friend Mike took great pleasure in watching me growl every time some underpaid idiot chose to remember Donna as…

"That hot blond chick? Nice ass. Legs, too. I would do her in an instant."

We're on our way back to my room when Mike stops short as if he's just remembered something important.

"What?"

He gives me a look that's somewhere between apologetic and scared as he reaches into his trouser pocket, pulls out his cell phone, searches through the memory, finally finds the number he's looking for and then waits for a moment. "Hey, it's me, Mike," he says into the phone while I'm sidelined, confused, and close to losing it. "Yeah, I know… un huh… Listen, what room are you in? Seriously. Seriously? Wow, who's shelling out for that? … Yeah, I know, I forgot … Ok-_ay_… Sure, I'll talk to you later." He ends the conversation.

And I'm thoroughly confused.

"What the hell was that?"

"You married well," he grins.

Huh? "What?"

"She's in the Penthouse Suite."

Again. Huh? "Who is?"

"Ms Donnatella Moss, or Mrs Donnatella Lyman, I should say." His grin only gets wider.

"You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"Wait, you could have just pulled out your phone and ended my misery an hour ago and didn't think to do it until _now_?"

He holds his hands up in the universal sign for surrender. "I'm sorry Josh, I forgot how I met Mel."

Mel?

"Penthouse suite? In _this_ hotel?" I say as I start to head back toward the elevator. "I need to go see her."

"There's no point, she's not there right now."

"But you're sure she's staying in this hotel?"

"Not only is she in this hotel, she's paying for the use of the most expensive suite. The entire floor, actually."

"Front desk said she wasn't registered--"

"No, the room is under the Bride's name."

"But she's paying for it?"

"That's what Melanie said."

"Melanie?"

"Yeah, my date last night."

"Ok, seriously, I'm hung over, I have a meeting in less than ten minutes which I'm mentally trying to prep for and I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I woke up married and it took my wife less than an hour to walk out on me. My brain can't take anymore right now; you gotta spell this out for me."

He casually places his hands in his trouser pockets, leans back against the wall and says, "You honestly don't remember a thing, do you? Donnatella--"

"Donna," I correct. Hearing Mike call her Donnatella just feels wrong. He doesn't have that right.

He gives me a strange look but continues. "You and I met Donna and Melanie last night—well, you met Donna earlier in the day but essentially we all got together last night and well, then the rest happened."

"Melanie is…?"

"Donna's best friend."

"Ok."

I pace back and forth for a moment and then start to head back to the elevators.

"Where are you going?"

"To her suite."

"Josh, she's not there."

"Yeah, but she has to come back sometime."

"True, but don't you have a meeting in, what, seven minutes?"

Shit.

"Ok, listen, she has to come back to her room sometime so you wait for her outside and don't let her go when she comes back. I'll finish this meeting quickly and meet up with you. Ok?"

"Ok-_ay_. What are you gonna say when you see her?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

*

"Congressman Rippon, congratulations on your win," I greet. He's tall, in his mid thirties and has that quality that women swoon over. At least, the women in this place seem to be swooning.

"Josh, it's James. And do me a favour would you? Toby seems to be a little hard to find right now so pass on my thanks to him." At my questioning glance, he adds, "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have ran."

"Sure. So, what are you doing back in Nevada so soon?"

"Officially, I'm back for some speeches thanking my constituents for voting me in."

"And unofficially?"

"I figured I'd surprise my fiancé. We've both been exceptionally busy for the past few weeks. She should be joining us soon."

"Congratulations. How long have you been engaged?"

"Six months," he smiles. "Josh, I actually asked for this meeting because I wanted to talk to you about Yucca Mountain."

"James, that's a conversation that I want to have but just don't have enough time for right now. I have to get a flight back to DC in less than an hour and I still have some other loose ends to tie up."

"I realise that, but you should know I'm not going to back down from this."

"And we don't want you to; we're just asking that you work with us on this."

He takes a moment to measure my sincerity and then nods. His smile reappears and he excuses himself from the table. I follow his gaze but can't see anything beyond the two hundred pound man fighting with a waiter over… caviar?

"Hey, Josh!" Mike's comes dashing towards me, his breathing laboured as if he's just ran a marathon.

"What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you standing guard outside her suite?"

"You might wanna lower your voice there buddy." He struggles to regain his breath.

"Mike," I growl.

"I found out something else about her that you're not gonna like."

"Such as?"

"Oh shit, too late," he mutters as he looks with a frown past the caviar eating, sumo wrestler.

"Mike, what the hell is up with you?"

"Turn around."

Oh. My. God.

"If I were you, I'd run the hell out of here and give CJ another call right now."

"This can't be happening."

"I hate to break this to you, Josh, but I think it is. And you said things couldn't get any worse."

I must have been a Republican in my past life because I seem to be paying penance for some sort of vile mistake. James is walking back towards the table with a woman who I assume is his fiancé by his side…

"Josh, and er… sorry, I don't know your name?"

"Mike Casper," he introduces himself and shakes James hand while I stare, dumbfounded, at ­­­­­the woman standing besides James.

"Josh, Mike, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Donna Moss."

I repeat: I hate my life.


	4. IV

**When I First Met You **

IV

Mike, Donnatella, James-Congressman Rippon -- and I. Sitting together. Drinking coffee.

My best man, my wife, and her fiancé.

And me.

Isn't this the modern day conundrum?

I'm trying my damnedest not to glare at her, because really, right now I just want to rip into her. I'm thinking it'd be a pretty good floor show-I'm told I can be quite entertaining when in a rage. She had the nerve to read me a riot act about cheating and drugging her and all the other crap I had to listen to this morning and she's _engaged_?

It didn't occur to her to slip that fact into the conversation this morning?

_"My name is Donnatella Moss and obviously we got drunk and did something stupid, and while I loved the amazing,  
explosive sex and multiple orgasms you gave me, I should probably tell you that I'm engaged to the  
guy your boss is trying to court and you should, you know, be prepared for my fiancé to kick your ass"._

Seriously, I could have worked with that. Or maybe something more akin to…

_"I hope the sex was as great for you as it was for me because my fiancé is Congressman Rippon,  
who is going to demand your resignation and generally humiliate your ass for sleeping with his fiancé."_

Anything would have been better than this. I got blindsided and now I'm sitting here talking to this guy like I didn't wake up with his fiancé in my bed. Naked.

I want to glare at her, I really do, but I just don't have the energy. And I'm pretty sure that if I did, James would notice and, you know, ask questions. Since that's not a conversation I particularly want to have, not in front of a hundred other strangers anyway, I don't look at Donna. Or at least, I try my best not to. Instead I plaster a pained smile across my face while I make worthless small talk.

Donna has yet to look at me once.

I'm not sure what I'd do if she did- look at me, that is. I'm thinking saying any of the things going through my mind is a bad idea.

A very bad idea: the kind of idea that gives CJ reasons to kill me.

So I sit here and say nothing, continuing to feel uncomfortable as I watch the happy grin on this guy's face as he holds Donna's hand.

Donna's left hand.

A hand that is ___not_ wearing my ring, but some ostentatious thing I've never seen before.

For God's sake woman ___look_ at me.

I have no idea what's going through her mind. I don't know if my judgment is that clouded and I'm not able to read her body language clearly, or if she's just that good of an actress, because all I see is her smiling and laughing quietly at Jame's mediocre jokes.

I really can't take any more of this-sitting across a table from her and watching her fiancé beam like a mad-man-in-love. I can't watch her ignore me like the last twenty-four hours didn't happen.

I need to get out of here, so I signal to Mike, make my excuses and get the hell out of Dodge.

"That was uncomfortable."

"You think?"

"I'm surprised Congressman Rippon didn't pick up on the awkwardness."

Huh?

"The guy doesn't know me from Adam, how would he know what I was feeling? Why would he care?"

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about her."

"What abut Donna?"

"Her fiancé knows her even if he doesn't know you, but he didn't seem to pick up on her unease. Seriously Josh, she didn't look any more comfortable than you did."

"Were we sitting at the same table? Because she didn't look like she had any problems from where I was sitting."

"I don't know where you were, but I saw how she pulled her hand out of his as he held it and how she was playing with her ring."

"I didn't see that," I say quietly.

"So you probably missed the way she kept avoiding eye contact with you, but couldn't help looking in your direction every once in a while."

Every time I looked at her she was looking at her hands or at James, anywhere but me. Did I really miss all that? Why didn't I see what Mike did?

"I missed that."

"I guess that's why they pay me the big bucks," he jokes. "You ok?"

"What?" My voice sounds hoarse, even to my own ears.

"She's engaged."

"Thanks for stating the obvious," I say derisively. He gives me a look that stops any more sarcastic comments from leaving my mouth. Finally, I sigh, "Yeah, I got that part." I didn't mean to sound as defeated as I did there.

"I'm sorry, Josh."

"Yeah," I shrug. She's engaged and that's her problem. I'm not sure what all these feelings inside me are. If I should name them or just stamp them down and hope they fade away. We got drunk and married and that's… something I have to deal with.

I'm just not sure what that means or where I go from here.

"Seriously, you ok?"

"It was sex." If I keep telling myself that I might be able to move on to another thought.

"_Josh_…"

"It was sex," I repeat forcefully.

"And marriage," he says with a small smile.

"Yeah, and that," I smile back, though I'm putting way too much effort into such a simple gesture. "I was just knocked back for six-" I start. "I wasn't expecting things to get complicated." Because, really, of all the ways I was imagining this day to get worse, this wasn't it.

"Yeah," he sighs. After a moment he asks, "She's engaged and she slept with you?"

"Well, we were pretty drunk," I half defend her.

"Would that excuse work for you if she was your fiancé?"

I don't reply because it's quite obvious what the answer is. I chuckle for a second, the bitterness seeping through. "It explains why she freaked out when she found out what I did, professionally." I conveniently ignore the way she almost read me the riot act when she thought I was married.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I answer as we reach the elevator and walk in. Leaning back against a large mirror, I close my eyes. I'm trying to move past the image of bright blue eyes smiling down at me, and wondering what the hell to do next.

"She wasn't wearing her ring," I say. I spent what seemed like an eternity, but was more likely less than a minute, staring at her hand. I don't know what I felt when I saw my ring on her finger this morning, but seeing her engagement ring just now left me feeling empty in a way I never imagined possible.

"Last night?"

"What? Yeah, sorry-last night, she wasn't wearing it last night, at least I hope she wasn't because-"

"Josh, any time you want to start making sense here-"

"I meant just now, she wasn't wearing her wedding ring now." He's looking at me trying to figure out where I'm going with this and in all honesty I have no idea. "The one I bought her," I clarify. "She wasn't wearing it."

I spent ten thousand dollars on a ring for a woman engaged to be another man's wife. My judgment sucks sometimes.

"If she wore your ring the Congressman might have asked a few questions."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"What are you going to do next?"

"Pack." That's as far as I've gotten with this plan. I'm not sure I want to think about the next step.

* * *

"The crime stats you wanted are waiting on your desk. Sam wanted ten minutes and I passed on the message to the First Lady's office that it would be best if her staff avoided you for the rest of the day," Carol lists as we walk back from the briefing room to my office.

"Do I have Advil? Or drugs of any kind?"

"I'll find you some. Also, Danny left a present for Gail and you have Josh on line one."

"Thanks."

"I'll go get the Advil."

"Joshua," I say as I take a seat and watch Carol leave.

"Hey."

"You sound like shit." He screwed up, but we can fix this and in the grand scheme of things… well, we can fix this.

And I'll have much more fun being mad at him when he's here in my office. I'm compiling a nice little stack of things that I can throw at him.

"Thanks, CJ." I'm sure Josh meant that to sound sarcastic, but all I can hear is exhaustion. He sounds drained and defeated.

"Did you read up on the annulment laws?" Something tells me he hasn't.

"I actually haven't had time to do that yet," he sighs.

"Lucky for you I pulled the data we need. It's all here for you when you get back."

"Thanks, but that's not why I'm calling."

"You didn't get her pregnant, did you?" I joke. "I know it takes a while for hormones to show up on a test, but some women have an intuition-she's not the type to have an intuition is she, Josh?" I'm not going to worry about this possibility. Really. Not going to worry.

At least not today.

"It's not something you have to worry about," he states adamantly. But then I hear him mutter, "At least, I hope not."

"Josh, you used some sort of birth control, right?" Please tell me you used condoms, or that she's at least on the pill.

"Yes?"

"Are you asking or telling?" My initial amusement is fast giving way to nervousness.

"There were wrappers on the night stand. Except, I was a little drunk last night-"

"A little drunk?"

"A lot drunk," he amends.

"Ok, so you were saying…" I prompt after he doesn't continue.

"We had a few problems with the logistics."

I think the water just spewed out of my nose. "The logistics of a condom? There isn't much to it, Josh. You roll the thing on to your-"

"Yes," he interrupts forcefully. "I know how a condom works, CJ." He hesitates for a second before blurting out, "Our hand-eye-co-ordination was a little off."

I can't help it, I have to mess with him; it's only fair. "Are you sure she had a good time?"

_"CJ!"_

"Because, if you couldn't even get a condom to work, how do you know you hit any of the right spots?"

"Back to the point," he starts forcefully, "There were condoms in use, but I can't guarantee we used them correctly, or that there weren't times where we didn't use them at all. My memory's a little sketchy on the details."

"That's-"

"And I hit all the right spots. Repeatedly."

"Thanks for the reassurance there, buddy," I shoot back.

"I aim to please," he says with no feeling whatsoever.

"O-_kay_," I say, confused at his tone. "What's up then?"

"I woke up married," he replies, sounding defeated.

"This was news to me two hours ago. Right now? Not so much."

"Yeah, but there's more."

"You're about to tell me something that's going to make your announcement of marriage this morning feel like a walk in the park, in terms of a PR standpoint, aren't you?"

"That's a poorly constructed sentence-"

"Josh, I'm not in the mood for thinly disguised avoidance crap. What's wrong? I mean, besides the obvious."

It takes him a moment, but in a small pained whisper he finally answers, "She's engaged."

Don't do this to me, Josh. Please don't tell me you let this happen.

"Who's engaged?"

"Donna."

"Engaged," I repeat, monotone.

I need to be sure I heard that right.

"She's engaged to Rippon."

"Engaged?" Just to be clear. "To _Congressman_ Rippon?" His silence is answer enough. "You spent the night with a stranger who happens to be _engaged_ to a _Congressman_?" I start. "What the hell were you thinking, Josh? Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me this before?" What the hell is it with Josh and sleeping with inappropriate women? Does his libido really have that much power over him? The jackass is trying my last nerve-in the past five years this man has slept with too many women to name, ninety percent of whom he should never have even looked at.

"CJ-"

"Did you use even a single brain cell last night? Is it a genetic disposition that makes you sleep only with women you shouldn't-"

"CJ, I-"

"I'll tell you what, Josh, I'll have Carol pull up the names of the wives, fiancés, and daughters of every Congressman and Senator in the tri-state area. If that's not enough, I'll get you the name of every lobbyist, reporter, and socialite and you can work your way through them too. If you want to spice things up I'm sure Sam's call girl friend has some pals, why not screw them on the steps of the Hill? Go seduce one and have sex to your heart's content. How's that? This way, at the very least, I'm forewarned. When your sex life becomes a political nightmare that _I_ have to fix at _least_ I'll be forewarned."

Silence.

I'm disappointed more than anything when I finally say, "I can't believe you screwed us over for an _orgasm_, Josh."

"I _married_ her, CJ. Yes, I was drunk, but I _married_ her, and you think it was just about sex? I've gotten drunk and had sex before, CJ, but I _married_ the woman this time."

Any biting remark I had just died on my tongue. His voice-it sounded…

He's hurting over this.

He's angry, frustrated, and knows this shouldn't have happened. But I didn't imagine he'd be hurting over this.

"Sure." I feel a slight pang of guilt, realising that I don't sound at all sympathetic, but I'm still mad at him. I've lost count of the amount of women that have tumbled through Josh's life in the past five years. He does this too often; says and does things that inevitably end up causing the administration embarrassment, and me, nightmares.

When he doesn't say anything, I ask another question. "Does Rippon know?"

"I didn't get the impression she told him."

"Will she?" I'm disgusted with myself that I'm actually praying she won't. It would save us so many headaches if she didn't tell her fiancé she cheated on him. What kind of person does it make me that I hope she doesn't come clean to make _my_ life easier?

"I don't know."

"Josh," I sigh, "How did you get into this mess?"

"I honestly don't know, CJ." He's using his earnest voice and I begin to feel a little sorry for him. "You don't think I'm beating myself up over this?"

"The media won't care what you're going through. It sure as hell won't matter to Congressman Rippon-and it won't matter to Leo either. You can be apologetic all you want, but the fact is that your sex life has become an issue _yet again_ and this time it could cost us more than a bill. It could cost you your _job_ If this gets out, it won't go away. You'll be a joke; _we'll_ be a joke."

"I know," he breathes.

"Do you really? Because the mistakes you make Josh, if you were working for anyone other than Leo, you'd have been fired already. Your personal life should never have this kind of effect on your job and yet, here we are again. He's loyal to us, Josh, and you keep testing how far that loyalty goes."

"This wasn't intentional, CJ."

"Is it ever?"

"Of course not!"

"Fine." He deserves for me to be mad at him, and I may have crossed a line, but right now he deserves it. I'll apologise later. Maybe. "Did you know she was engaged when you slept with her?" Please say no, Josh. Forgetting the political nightmare, I don't want to lose any personal respect for you.

It takes him a moment to answer. "I don't know."

"You don't know," I echo in complete disbelief.

"I don't remember. I'd like to think I'm not enough of a bastard to sleep with another man's fiancé-"

"But you don't remember," I cut him off. I don't really care about what he hopes he did or didn't do.

"I don't remember much of last night. It's coming back to me slowly, but…"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to know what happened, CJ," he implores. "I want to get the marriage annulled and then just forget this ever happened."

"Josh-"

"Listen, I just called to tell you she was engaged. Just in case."

"Fine, you've done that."

"CJ…"

"Don't, Josh."

"I'm really sorry, CJ."

"Spin it to someone who cares, Josh."

Damn. I should apologise, I really didn't mean for that to come out. But I can't seem to say I'm sorry. I'm not ready to stop being mad at him yet.

"I don't know what else to say," he finally breathes, as the silence between us became uncomfortable.

"I don't need you to say anything, Josh. I need you to grow up. I can appreciate how this really was just a sad twist of fate and for that I'm sorry. I'm just disappointed. You're better than this."

"Right now, I don't have that much faith in me."

"Well, this isn't just about you. You may not have known she was engaged, but she certainly did."

"We were drunk-"

"Don't-You're held to a higher standard, Josh. If an average Joe did something like this he wouldn't have to worry about it hitting the tabloids. You do. You should know better. And as for Donna… I don't know her to comment, but what she did was wrong, so don't defend her on this."

"I'm not-I wasn't going to-"

"Really? Because I have to tell you, 'we were drunk' sounds like a defence to me-a pitiful one, but a defence nonetheless."

He doesn't say anything and I wish I had a clue as to what was going through his mind.

"I don't have to like what she did, but I'll reserve judgment on the woman," I placate, sensing this is important to him for some reason.

"Yeah," he sighs. I hear something that sounds vaguely like relief in his voice and once again I'm left wondering what the hell is going through his mind.

"Leo needs to know now, Josh."

"I know," he breathes. "I'm not sure I can-"

"No way-you don't get to walk away from this without any scars."

"You really think that's how this is going to end?" His tone is low, but the anger is present and speaks volumes. "You think this is going to have some fairytale ending and I'm about to walk away from this thinking it was a great experience?"

"You don't get to be mad at me, Josh. I'm not the one who screwed up. You asked me to tell Leo because you don't have the guts to do it yourself. I don't care how you think this is going to end, but the fact is that you're going to have to deal with it and you're going to tell Leo."

It's amazing how silence can say so much. Sometimes it gives you the time you need to think of the right thing to say, and just now? It told me I _definitely_ crossed a line; in fact, it's so far behind me I couldn't see it even if I tried.

His voice is quiet when he starts to talk. "I never said I wasn't going to talk to Leo, and I wasn't asking you to talk to him for me. I should be home later… I shouldn't do this over the phone."

"This…" I sigh. "He needs to hear this from you," I repeat, thinking about how Leo will react.

"I know. It's just-there are times when I'm stupid and people move past it because despite the act, my reasons behind it are, well, you know. And then there are times where I've managed to do something that…"

"Josh?"

"I look down on people who cheat, CJ. If I was the outside observer in this I wouldn't have any respect for the guy in my place."

"Are you kidding me with this?" Really. Is he kidding me with this?

"No, CJ-"

I'm determined not to let him ignore this mistake or forget it, but he seems to be losing all perspective. "You were _drunk_, Josh. You've said it yourself; you don't remember what happened and until you do, you can't beat yourself up like this. All you did was get drunk and have a one-night stand. And if this were happening to someone else you'd laugh at the guy for being an idiot and feel sorry for him because he did something stupid when drunk. And then you'd make some smart ass remark about how it would never happen to you."

"But it did."

"Yes, it did."

"And that makes it worse."

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Josh." He doesn't answer and so I wait. He needs to get out of this funk. I don't understand how he's so affected by this in _this_ way.

Finally he asks, "Why do you think she did it? Why do you think she let it happen?"

"I have no idea, Josh, and I don't know her so I can't even speculate."

"I guess." I hear Josh take a deep breath. "She just-I didn't pick up on it before, but she… when she woke up she looked horrified, but at the same time she didn't."

"What about when she was with Rippon? How did she look then?"

"I was trying my hardest to avoid looking at her. I was still trying to process things and… I was pretty mad at her."

"But still-"

"I don't get it, CJ-what the _hell_ was going through her mind?" His anger is back and it now has a desperate quality to it.

And the pieces finally fit into place. This isn't about the fact that he slept with someone he shouldn't have; it's that _she_ slept with him. He's not disappointed in himself as much as he's disappointed with _her_… he's disappointed that this can't have a better outcome… which would mean in their short time together, she managed to break through the Lyman resolve and earn his respect and admiration, something that normally takes a long time to gain.

"Josh…" I have no idea what to say, but I should say something. He sounds hurt and lost and it's finally sinking in that this is actually getting to him on a level that goes beyond my understanding of him. I'm still really angry with him but he sounds so…_lost_. I'm mad at him, but the insufferable jackass is still Josh, and Josh is one of my best friends. I need to take a moment to try and decipher what it is he needs from me.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about her."

"CJ," he warns.

"I'm not speaking as Press Secretary here, Josh. I'm asking as your friend. Just… tell me about her."

He sighs and then, almost on a breath, he says, "She has this luminous smile."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "And she has this habit of changing topics on you in a flash-frustrates the hell out of you, but it's sweet, I guess."

"What did she say when she told you that she was engaged?"

"She didn't tell me. I had a meeting with Rippon and she was there. He introduced her as his fiancé. She couldn't - or wouldn't - look at me and I left as soon as I could. I think if I hadn't found out for myself, she wouldn't have told me."

"You need to talk to her. Are you ready for that?"

"CJ, it's not like I'm in love with her."

"I didn't say you were, you idiot. But like you said, you married the woman."

"I'm just… this isn't some deeply loving relationship. It was a one-night stand and a mistake. I'm ok. It was just a shock to the system is all."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I am emotionally equipped to have a conversation with Donna." He sounds vaguely amused.

"Well, with your fractured psyche, one can never be sure," I tease.

"Again with the resorting to mental health jokes. Can't think of a witty comeback, Claudia Jean?"

"That was plenty witty."

"Sure, live in your delusional little world. But I have to tell you, it won't get you many dates."

"There is nothing wrong with my love life."

"Okay, that sentence is misleading, because one would assume from that that you actually have one."

"This coming from the D.C. slut," I grin. Ten minutes ago I was mad as hell with him and now I'm joking about this. Welcome to the weird and wonderful friendship of Joshua Lyman and Claudia Jean Cregg. Damn him for being a loveable jackass.

"CJ, if you keep calling me that I'm gonna get offended." I can hear the smile in his voice. "And I'm not, you know, what you just called me. I'm not that lucky."

"You're a lot more charming to women than you realise, Josh. It's beyond my level of comprehension, but there are some who seem to find the child-like quality about you endearing. Also your arrogance. I really don't get that, but apparently it's a turn on."

"Well, I am ruggedly handsome."

"No, you're not. What idiot told you that?"

"Hey, you were the one just telling me that women find me attractive."

"Yes, and I was talking about the group of women out there who seem to find your juvenile mating rituals endearing-usually they have the same maturity level as you. Nowhere did I mention that they think of you as ruggedly handsome."

"Mating rituals?" He's no longer vaguely amused so much as he's trying to hold in the laughter.

"Flirting," I offer instead. "I was merely pointing out that your juvenile flirting tactics are found endearing by some."

"Right. They find my flirting endearing, but are in no way attracted to me physically." It should frighten me that I can actually see him nodding, but I got over that sometime in the first year.

"You mock me?"

"It wasn't obvious already? And CJ, we were actually talking about you and your love life. At least there are women out there who can vouch for my skills in bed. I'm thinking right now D.C's only got your word for how good you are."

"You didn't just go there."

"Where?" The bastard is grinning-I can _hear_ his grin.

"Your skills as a lover are only as good as the women you sleep with say they are. And Mandy wasn't all that flattering about you." Of course, I'm not telling him that when Mandy's drunk and in the mood to tell the truth, she speaks quite highly of Josh.

"Not flattering? Come on CJ! Think about it-all we did was argue. Why the hell stay with me for that long if the sex wasn't great?"

"Josh, all you do with any of the women you date - and I use the word date in the loosest of terms - is argue."

"I gave that woman the best years of her life. No way she thought the sex was bad."

I smirk. "The best years of her life? I'm thinking Richard might have something to say about that."

"Well, see, this is why Mandy feels the need to play with the truth; she doesn't want to hurt the guy."

"Yeah, that's exactly it." I'm about to mock him some more when I hear what sounds like someone knocking on a door. "Josh, is someone-"

"Yeah, there is. Listen, I'll call you back. And thanks, CJ, for you know…thanks."

"Don't mention it. But Josh, I'm still pissed."

"I know."

"But you sounded like you needed a friend."

"Thanks, Claudia."

"Talk to her before you call me back, ok?" I say softly. "Talk to her, Josh."

"I will. I promise."

"And hey, make sure Congressman Rippon isn't actually there, when you, you know, have the talk."

"CJ, I'm not an idiot."

"Of course not. Except, sometimes you are."

"Okay, seriously, I'm wounded."

"I guess there's some merit to the phrase 'truth hurts.'"

* * *

I chuckle into the phone as I hear the dial tone. I love that woman. That she can be mad at you and still make you feel like not a complete jackass is why she's quite possibly my best friend.

I scrub my hands over my face and answer the door. I shouldn't be shocked when I see Donna and I guess I'm not. I'm just too drained to have any other reaction.

"Hi," she says wearily, looking around the hallway.

I let her in before someone recognises her and wonders what she's doing here. "James not with you?" I'm flippant and don't really care if I come across as cruel in this conversation. I can't help myself, my insides are churning and I need a method of release.

She's taken about two steps into the suite - enough to shut the door behind her - but hasn't made a move to come in any further. Right now I'm thinking the more distance between us the better.

"What?"

"Nothing," I mutter darkly.

"Planning the wedding?" Her voice holds a touch of incredulous indignation. Whether that's directed at my tone or my words, I don't know.

"He is your fiancé, isn't he?" I don't wait for her answer as I move around the room picking up papers and files I brought to work on during the plane ride here. I'm almost done packing so I take one last look around while Donna stands rigid and looking for all the world like this is the last place she wants to be. I'm too angry at her, at me, at this situation, to say anything without lashing out at her, and considering how volatile my anger can be, I'm making the choice to stay quiet. She can initiate this dialogue.

Finally she says, "I'm so sorry about this."

"Which 'this' are we talking about here? The part where you ran out on me after you found out we got married? The part where you didn't leave any way for me to contact you so we can fix this mess? The part where you forgot to tell me you're here with a guy that I have to work with? Or, and this is the best bit, the part where I find out you're _engaged_!" By the end of my rant I'm leaning towards her and gesturing wildly with my hands. She looks a little frightened, so I take a step back and count to ten.

It's not helping.

"I'm sorry," she repeats.

I sigh, trying to put some order to the thoughts running through my mind. "Did I know you were…" I can't say it right now. I can't say it to her.

Thank God she manages to understand what I'm trying to say. "No-I don't know. I don't think I would have told you." She smiles sadly and whispers to herself. "I was trying to forget." You were trying to forget you were engaged?

Why?

I stare at her and wait for some explanation, but none is forthcoming. Instead she repeats the words 'I'm sorry.'

"You're engaged," I say in answer to her apology once I've calmed down.

"I'm-" She falters for a second before she starts again, and this time she avoids any eye contact. "I am… James and I-we've been engaged for-for six months."

"We had sex."

She closes her eyes as if the very idea somehow stings her, and the thought that that's how she views this thing between us affects me more than it should.

"I know," she finally replies.

"We woke up together."

Work with me here, Donna; give me a reason.

"I know," she breathes.

She's not even trying to explain this-how is it that she can think a simple 'I'm sorry' is ok? "You slept with me- hell, you _married_ me and you're already _engaged_. How the hell does someone do that!"

"I was drunk! I woke up this morning _naked_ with a stranger and I _don't_ remember what happened. I don't have the answers but I woke up with you and this is as hard for me as it is for you!"

"You don't get to use that as an excuse. You let yourself get drunk to the point that it didn't matter to you that you're supposed to be marrying another man. You knew-you _know_ he exists and yet you-" I stop because I honestly don't know what to say.

She laughs, and it has a bitter quality to it. It's startlingly different from the laughter from last night that has been running through my mind since I woke up this morning.

"I _let_ myself get drunk?"

"Donna-"

"I _let_ myself get drunk? Because that's not how it works. I wasn't sitting there thinking 'If I drink enough I'll have a good excuse to sleep with this guy.'"

"I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did. You just implied that this was part of some calculated plan and not a mistake. Are you always this arrogant?-"

"Arrogant?"

"This was a _mistake_."

"I know that-"

"Really? Because you seem to think this is all about you and here's a news flash; it's not."

"No, it's about me, you, and the guy you cheated on."

She snaps her mouth shut and silence hangs in the air.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she finally says sharply.

"You're engaged to another man and you slept with me! What else do I need to know?"

I stare at her once again, waiting for an answer that isn't forthcoming. Finally, I look away and she whispers, "It's not that simple."

What the hell does that mean?

I look at her again and she looks so vulnerable now. The anger that was there a minute ago isn't there anymore and she instead looks as drained as I feel.

"Look, can we- maybe it would be better if we stopped trying to explain what happened…" What she really means is maybe _I_should stop thinking about what happened. "…We should-we need to figure out how we're going to fix this so we can move on."

Why is my chest constricting a little at her words?

"You think we can just forget about what we did last night as if nothing ever happened, and move on?"

Will _you_ be able to just forget this like nothing ever happened?

"You want this to get out?" she asks pointedly, staring me down.

"I want you to tell me how you could do it, how could you be that kind of person." I honestly don't know what I want from her here. I wish I understood why this matters to me so much.

"You're expecting a lot from someone you've known less than a day," she says in a quiet voice. I'm not sure who's having more trouble with my reaction to the situation, her or me.

"I know you well enough to know you're avoiding the question."

"I was _drunk_."

"That's not an excuse for sleeping with me when you're already engaged!" I yell.

"_We_ slept together because _we_ were _drunk_," she states carefully. "We got married because we were drunk, and neither would have happened if either of us was sober, would it?"

"That isn't the point."

"What is the point, Josh?" she implores. "Why does it matter so much to you? Yes, I'm engaged. Yes, I made a mistake-and it's one _I_have to live with. You get to walk away from this and _I_ have to deal with the consequences, so _why_ are you acting like the injured party here?"

"You think this won't affect me?" I ask incredulous.

"That's not what I meant."

"No? What did you mean?"

"I didn't- … I'm not engaged to you, so what gives you the right to feel betrayed?"

"I don't feel betrayed."

"Are you sure? Because you're certainly acting like it."

I look at her and all that I can think about is what compelled me to want this woman. I have these feelings for her and all I can think is what _is_ it about her that makes me want her? Why am I this disappointed in her for sleeping with me, for allowing herself to get drunk enough to marry me? What the hell happened in the last twenty-four hours that made me this invested in her and this… relationship.

And then I think about finding out she was engaged, and I know that I don't want to know any more about her. This isn't going to end in any way that has a good outcome. If I'm lucky it'll just end.

I turn around and head back into the bedroom. Zipping my suitcase shut, I come to a decision. I take a deep breath and face her through the door. "You're coming with me to D.C."

"I'm what?"

"D.C. I'm having my assistant book you a ticket on the same flight as me," I state as I hit speed dial on my cell phone.

"You're kidding." I give her a look to show her how serious I am. "Why?"

"Because you're right. We need to stop thinking about what happened and deal with this."

"I understand that, but why can't we stay here and fix this? Wouldn't that make more sense?"

"I have to be in D.C. I don't have time to stay here and find a way to fix this."

"And you need me to come with you?"

"Yeah-wait one sec," I say to Donna. "Cleo, I need you to reserve another seat- yeah. And tell CJ about it-she'll know what it means." I snap my cell phone shut and look up to see Donna with her arms crossed over her chest and her mouth in a tight line.

"I can't fix this with you in another state," I explain.

"So you decided to just go ahead and make plans without consulting me?"

"Isn't that the way of married people?" I joke, but there's really no humour in my tone.

"I can't go with you, Josh. I have to get back to work."

"You took two weeks off from work-"

"How did you know that?"

"What?"

"I didn't tell you that-how did you know that?"

I sigh, because I can imagine the outburst that's about to ensue. "Earlier, when I didn't know how to find you, I had Mike dig around."

"Define 'dig around.'"

"Mike tracked you through your medical license. We found out where you worked and they said you were off for the next two weeks." I haul the suitcase out of the room and walk past her as I add, "And we left a few messages around."

"I don't understand what that means," she says as she follows me.

"Mike left a message on your parents' answering machine."

"He did what?"

"He-"

"You had an FBI agent leave a message on my parents' answering machine? Are you nuts? Is there something wrong with you?"

"If it helps, I don't think he mentioned he was an FBI agent."

"So you had a strange man leave a message on my parents' machine?"

"You didn't give me a choice!"

"So you thought that made it ok to invade my life like that?"

"What the hell was I supposed to do, Donna?" I ask passionately. "You walked out on me and I had no idea how to find you."

"It didn't occur to you that I just needed some time? Did you honestly think I wouldn't come back?"

"I didn't think you'd leave in the first place," I answer, looking straight at her. Any reply she has seems to die on her lips as we stare at each other. I wish I knew what was going through her mind, but she won't let me in and we need to get this conversation back on track. I clear my throat and start again. "You should probably pack some stuff to take to D.C. with you."

"I can't go with you, Josh," she says, sounding somewhat frantic.

"You don't get a choice in this, Donna."

"There's a reason I took two weeks off. And what am I supposed to tell James?"

"I'm sure you can think of something."

"I'm not going with you."

"You are. Deal with it and go pack."

"Or what?"

"Do you want your fiancé to know what you were doing last night?"

"You wouldn't."

"You really want to take that chance?"

"Just so we're clear on this?" she starts, her face taking on an adorable quality. "I'm really beginning to hate you."

"I'm your husband. It would go against the laws of nature if you didn't," I shoot back.

She just glares at me.

A small smile traces my lips as I watch her get indignant. Looking at her now, I realise this is possibly one of the reasons I want her; she looks beautiful and it has nothing to do with her physical appearance. There's a sparkle in her eye, as if she can't help but banter back and forth with me.

"I loathe to breath the same air as you."

I smirk. I can't help it. "You know, you weren't saying that last night."

She continues to glare at me. And damn but I can't help but think even her glare is sexy. I clear my throat, "And anyway, after the hell you put me through this morning, the feeling is entirely mutual."

"So I go to D.C. with you and then what?"

"We'll figure out what to do next."

I watch her as she debates with herself about what to do. Finally, she relents. "Josh…"

"Yeah?"

"I'll go pack."

"Yeah," I sigh in relief.

"Should I- Should I meet you at the airport?"

"I think that would probably work best."

"What time is the flight?"

"We have to be there in forty-five minutes."

"Okay. I'll… I'll just go pack."

She starts to make her way towards the door when words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. "What will you tell James?"

"I don't know," she whispers, looking down at the door handle as if it might hold an answer. Strands of her hair fall to across her eyes and she raises a delicate hand to brush them back. She doesn't notice how my eyes are trained on her, watching as the anger and confusion slip away. I can't help but stare and I don't know why something in my chest twists a little as I read pain in her features. "Things weren't meant to end like this," she breathes. I'm left speechless at her words, having no idea what they mean, but knowing that saying them is tearing her up inside. And I'm stunned as I see her trying to blink back tears.

"Donna…"

She takes a moment to compose herself and then faces me with a faint, forced smile. Softly, she answers, "I should go pack."

My eyes follow her and remain focused on the door even after she closes the door behind her.

* * *

"What time does the flight leave?"

"An hour, but boarding begins in thirty," I reply anxiously. I'm pacing and scanning the airport crowds looking for Donna. She's not here yet and I'm beginning to wonder if she's performed another disappearing act. But all this is lost on Sam, since he's on the other end of the phone not able to see how uneasy I am. And there's also the fact that he doesn't actually _know_ about Donna yet.

"You haven't checked in yet?"

"Yeah, I have," I lie. I'm still waiting for Donna.

"O-_kay_."

"Don't worry about it," I say quickly.

"Wasn't going to," he replies happily. I'm wondering if I should try calling her hotel room-but if she's decided not to come, would anything I say change her mind?

"So, my date last night was a bust," Sam starts out of the blue.

"Why? What happened?" I really don't want to listen to Sam lament about his love life, but maybe listening to Sam bitch about his will take my mind off the mess mine has become.

"Well, I got talking to a woman in the bar on Friday night…"

"And?" Just tell me, Sam. I'm really not in the mood to drag this out of you right now. I'm all for listening to someone who has less luck with women than I do, but listening to Sam turn a rendition of a failed date into some sort of epic saga isn't something I have the patience for at the best of times, and certainly not now.

"I took her out for dinner last night…"

For the love of- quit stalling, Sam, or I'm gonna hang up on you.

"It turns out that, without alcohol, she's not so nice," he says ruefully.

"You were drunk when you got talking to her?" What is this- National _Men Getting Screwed_ Month?

And where the hell is Donna?

"Yeah-I know. It was a stupid thing to do."

"Sounds familiar," I mutter.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Look, Sam, you have nothing to worry about. It's not like you're never going to get another date. It's not even as if this has put you off the dating game forever, is it?"

I mean, it's not like you got married and now have to face the consequences, is it?

"Okay, Josh, take a deep breath and then release it. I was just making small talk."

"Oh." Okay. Now I feel like an idiot. "Small talk?"

"I've heard friends do that now and then."

"Where did you hear that-"

"Around."

"Because that sounds like a thing women would do. Men not so much."

"I didn't get that memo."

"Is this conversation going anywhere?" I ask impatiently.

I scan the waiting lounge. Still no sign of Donna.

"I was trying out my stand-up on you," he quips, still not understanding I'm really not in the mood for this.

"I'm laughing on the inside, Sam, really."

"I appreciate it," he retorts. "So how was the meeting with Rippon?" Great. Another conversation I desperately want to have.

"He said to pass on his thanks to Toby."

"Toby?"

"Yeah. Apparently Toby had something to do with his running." Isn't that going to be a great conversation?

_Toby, James Rippon wanted me to pass on his thanks for pushing him to run. _

Oh, and you should probably know that I married his fiancé but he doesn't know that yet.

"I didn't know that."

"Me either." I'm searching for a blond head that just isn't around. And there's only fifteen minutes left to check in.

"So at least the guy's decent."

"What?"

"I'm just saying-this guy had _Toby_ pushing him to run, so he's gotta be decent."

"Yeah," I sigh. This isn't something I want to hear right now. Because if James was a rat bastard then maybe Donna would have had some kind of reason to cheat on him. Knowing that he's a good guy and that she could do this to him… it's not how I want to think about her.

"Is he with us or do we need Toby to meet with him?"

"He's with us." Or at least he will be as long as he doesn't find out I slept with his fiancé. "How's the press release coming along?" I ask, trying to move the conversation away from Donna's future husband.

And that just sounds wrong on so many levels.

"It's done. But I'm avoiding CJ right now."

"Why?"

"She spent the morning trying to fade away a mistake the First Lady's office made and she's not in a good mood."

"What kind of mistake?"

"It's nothing-CJ's got a handle on it. But right now it's best to avoid her. I walked past her office and she was stabbing this poor doll with a pen."

"She was doing what?" I almost ask if the thing resembled me in any way, but I think I'd rather not know.

"You heard. Toby has his rubber balls and now, apparently, CJ stabs Raggedy Ann dolls."

"Well, that's just…" I trail off as I finally spot Donna. "Sam, I gotta go."

"Sure. I'll talk to you later."

She's finally here and we're both nervous and not entirely sure what to say or do, which is about when I remember that check in closes in a matter of minutes and that we don't have time to just stare at each other.

"We should probably check in."

"I'm sorry I'm so late. I had trouble- I'm sorry."

It takes me a second to remember why she would have trouble getting here, at which point I realise I really didn't want to know. I catch a glimpse of her hand only to see her engagement ring shining back at me, and I have to force down feelings I can't begin to understand before I say the wrong thing. Reflexively I look down to my left hand, realising that I have yet to take off my own ring. The awkwardness grows exponentially as I look up and see Donna staring at my wedding ring. She meets my eyes but her face is perfectly masked, hiding her feelings, leaving me with no idea as to what's going through her mind. With no idea what to do, I simply offer her a small, embarrassed smile and make a move to take hold of her suitcase, because as evident by our earlier conversations, neither of us is equipped to deal with this just yet.

We walk silently for a moment, the atmosphere becoming thick with tension, when Donna asks, "Did I interrupt something?"

"Huh?" I query with a total lack of eloquence.

"When I arrived, you were on the phone…"

"Oh, no, it was nothing. Just work."

She smiles at the opening, "The White House Deputy Chief of Staff calling work 'nothing' isn't exactly confidence inspiring. "

"If you think I'm bad, you should meet the President," I tease, glad that the awkward atmosphere seems to have been broken, for now at least.

* * *

We haven't spoken since we boarded the plane and that was over an hour ago. Neither of us seems to know what to say. I've been sitting here watching her discretely as she sits quietly, obviously uncomfortable in my presence. The need to open a dialogue with her that doesn't have us shouting at each other is now overwhelming.

"You know, I figured that when I got on a plane after getting married, it would be to go on a honeymoon." She turns to face me, looking startled, curious, and relieved. "I also figured that, in that case, I'd be joining the mile high club." I waggle my eyebrows for added effect and it works as she gives me a tentative but bright smile.

She laughs quietly and it's quite possibly the best sound I've heard all day. "You're telling me you're not a member already?"

"Nah," I smile, bringing out the dimples. "I figured I should save something special for my wife."

"And you think the mile high club is special?"

"Why?" I ask, eyebrows raised. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing," she grins, leaving a comfortable silence.

"I'm sorry about earlier." I chance a look at her face and see confusion written all over it. "Back at the hotel-I was out of line; I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did."

"Josh…"

"I'm just-I'm sorry about that."

"Well, if we're apologising…" she smiles shyly. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted this morning; I shouldn't have run out. And you shouldn't have found out about James the way you did."

"No, I shouldn't have."

"I really am sorry, Josh. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," I sigh. I shift uncomfortably as I wonder if I should ask what's on my mind. "What did you tell James?"

She looks at her hands as she answers, "I told him I was needed at the centre."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but as excuses go, that was pretty lame."

"Don't take this the wrong way?" she laughs. I'm somewhat offended but also a little relieved that she didn't explode at, you know, the way I phrased that sentence.

"You find this amusing? What happens if your fiancé decides to call you at work?" "Did I say that I was called away for work?" she asks raising an eyebrow. It's disturbingly sexy.

"Yes?"

"You're an idiot, Josh."

"Thanks. Your high opinion of me just warms my heart."

"Does it help that you're cute when you're in idiot mode?"

You have no idea.

Her smile lights up her eyes and I grin back answering, "I'd prefer if you could work 'ruggedly handsome' or 'a fine male specimen' in there. Anything to that effect would do."

"I'll remember that for next time."

"Next time?"

"Something tells me 'Josh in idiot mode' is a regular occurrence."

"You were talking about work," I deflect.

"Right, except I wasn't," she grins. Her smiles changes to a look of shy pride as she starts to talk again. "My sister started up a shelter for battered women about two months ago."

"It takes extraordinary people to offer that kind of help."

"Extraordinary doesn't even begin to describe Stan-".

"Stan. Your sister's name is Stan?"

"What's wrong with Stan?" she asks in an adorably defensive way.

"Nothing… just, did your parents not know she was a girl?"

"They knew. That's why they named her Alaska."

Alaska?

"But you just said her name was Stan."

"_I_ call her Stan."

"Right," I say utterly confused. "I can see how you got that from Alaska."

"Shut up."

"I have to ask-"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"But you realise I'm going to anyway."

"As long as you realise that I don't have to answer." She sits, stubborn, her arms folded across her chest and a resolute expression on her face.

"You will. You can't help yourself." I give her a smug grin. She glares at me. "So where did Stan come from? Or would it be funnier if I asked about Alaska?"

It takes her all of five seconds to crack.

"I couldn't pronounce Alaska when I was three. But I could say Stan."

"Yeah, but Stan?"

"From Stanford."

"Stanford?"

"Yes, the college-she went to med school there." She says this like I'm the world's biggest idiot for not being able to connect the dots.

"Right, so obviously, Stan."

"Don't mock me."

"You think I'm making fun of you?"

"Yes."

I was and she knows it, so I decide to quit while I'm ahead. Or behind, depending on your point of view.

"You were three when she was at college?"

"Med school. I was three when she was at med school-she's quite a bit older than me. I wasn't exactly an accident, but I wasn't planned either," she smiles.

"So your sister works with women who need help, and you work with children. That's a pretty special combination."

Her tone changes to something more intimate. "I always wanted to be her when I grew up. I remember wearing her heels and trying to find a way to put on her earrings, the only problem was I didn't have my ears pierced at the time."

"You must have presented quite the picture," I say, picturing Donna as a beautiful little blond girl.

"No, that would be when I was sick. I would go find her favourite dress to sleep in, because she always looked happy whenever she wore it. So I thought it would make me feel better."

"And it helped?"

"Back then I thought it did."

"I don't know many sisters who would be ok with their favourite dress being used like that."

"Well… It wasn't actually a dress. It was her college sweatshirt that she left behind while at med school. Except I was too young to know that-"

"And you would wear her Stanford sweatshirt when you were ill," I say _finally_ connecting the dots and imagining a three-year-old Donna swimming in her sister's Stanford sweatshirt. Instantly a picture of Donna now, swimming in my Harvard sweatshirt, enters my mind and I have to stifle a groan. I clear my throat and ask, "That's where you got Stan from?"

She nods, smiling. "Anyway, that's what Stan does, and I help when I can. She-this is the reason I became a doctor. Well Stan, and a stupid ex-boyfriend- who you don't need to know about…" she trails off embarrassed, as if she thinks she's said too much. "This shelter is new and she didn't have the funds to get all the help she needs right now, so I said I'd help with some of the arrangements and-"

"And that's why you took two weeks off," I finish for her.

"I was supposed to leave on Tuesday, but I told James I needed to leave today."

"What if he calls your sister?"

"He won't." I start to question her when she adds, "She knows to cover for me."

"Okay." I nod, though I can feel an internal guilt trip starting. I'm dragging her to D.C. when she could have been at the shelter working for a good cause.

"It's okay," she smiles at me. "Someone's going to take my place at the shelter until I can get there."

"How did you-?"

"I guess we really did connect in some way." She shrugs the comment off but there's something in her eyes as she says it. And the reaction I have to that leaves me with an indescribable feeling.

I remain quiet for a beat, then struggle through my next question. "Will you…" I clear my throat and try again. "Are you going to tell James about this?"

"About you?"

"About me; this situation."

"I don't think… this would just hurt him and… it's better if he doesn't know."

"Better for who?" I mutter. I obviously wasn't quiet enough since Donna gives me an odd look.

"I didn't say I would never tell him."

Really, so when do you plan on telling him?

"Sure," I say.

"Why does this matter to you so much?"

"Besides the ramifications it would have on my professional life?" I honestly don't have an answer for her. I don't know why this bothers me so much, and right now I don't know if I want to know. But she was expecting an answer and I gave her the only one I could. While it's not the answer to her question, it is an answer.

"James knowing about this won't have any ramifications on your professional life."

"Right. He'd have no problems working with the guy that slept with his fiancé." Sarcasm, you really gotta love it.

"That's not… He doesn't own me."

"No, but he's engaged to you."

"No, he's n- He and I-I'm not… he's one of my best friends, and the last few months have been… despite what's happened between us over the past few months, this would hurt him, and I can't do that to him."

Don't do it. Don't go there. Let the comment slide and talk about something else. Anything else. Talk about her sister. About-about her name and where it came from. Just don't talk about this. You don't want to listen to her talk about this guy. You know that. Don't ask- "You've been having problems?"

Like I wasn't going to ask.

"No-we… I… Have you ever been in a serious relationship?"

"If you'd ask my friends, I don't actually have relationships," I say, thinking maybe this isn't something I would really want to hear after all.

I really shouldn't have asked.

"I don't understand."

"It's been a while since I've been invested in a relationship, but I've mastered the art of casual-"

"You mean flings."

"Yeah," I smile cheekily.

"So maybe I can find a way of blaming all this on you after all," she smiles back, the hint of a teasing grin not far behind.

"Probably," I smile uncomfortably.

She takes a moment to take in my expression and then says, "Josh, you're not going to lose your career over this, that much I can promise."

"I don't think you can make promises for Leo," I mutter under my breath.

"Leo?"

It really should be obvious, given how close we're sitting, that she can hear anything I say out loud.

"The White House Chief of Staff."

"Your boss," she surmises. "Why would he fire you?"

"I think your fiancé asking for my resignation might be a pretty good incentive."

"He wouldn't do that."

"There's something wrong there then, because if you were my fiancé I'd be doing a lot worse to the guy who sle-"

"He is not going to ask for your resignation, Josh," she reiterates adamantly.

"Because he's not going to know?"

"No-I mean yes. No, that's not what I mean."

"You really have a way with words, you know that?"

She smiles sadly at my joke and then her expression turns earnest. "I don't know if I can tell him about this. I don't think I can hurt him like this. But even if I told him, he wouldn't ask for your resignation. Forgetting everything else, I wouldn't let him."

"That's nice of you, but he's going to lash out in some way."

"No, he won't."

I know I'm bad at relationships, but I think it's a safe bet that if the woman you've decided you want to spend the rest of your life with sleeps with another man, you do _something_.

I'm about to say as much when I realise that she's not going to cede this point so instead, I try another track. "Okay, let's say for argument sake say that James doesn't do anything. What happens if the press finds out?"

It takes her a while, but she finally admits, "It would be a mess." Although, I got the feeling that wasn't going to be her first answer. "You think they'll find out?"

"No," I say after a moment. "CJ didn't say anything about the wires picking this up. And Mike did some discrete checking. The guy who married us didn't recognise either of us. So the only people who know right now are people who won't talk. Unless you told anyone else?"

"No, but I think I remember you stopping some of the people we passed by and telling them we got married."

Oh. Well… that could screw things up.

"I'm sure they thought we were just like any other Vegas couple. If they recognised either one of us - which is highly unlikely given I'm not really known outside D.C. and you're thankfully not that well known - it would have made it to the wires by now. Or at least made it to some tabloid trash. I'm not saying they won't find out," I warn her. "I'm just saying it's unlikely."

"Okay," she sighs, not quite reassured. "So what happens when we get to D.C.?"

Where do I start? "I need to tell Leo and I'm guessing CJ will want to talk to you."

"Talk to me?"

"She just needs to hear things from you. This is what she does, Donna. Don't worry about it."

"Sure," she answers, still looking slightly anxious. "Where would I meet her?"

"She's waiting for us at the White House."

"The White House?" she squeaks.

"You've never been?"

"No, I have. It's just not everyday that I go there with the intention of talking to the Press Secretary about getting married to the Deputy Chief of Staff."

"It's a first all around. It's not every day that CJ has to talk to my wife," I quip, trying to ease some of her anxiety.

"You two are good friends?"

"Yeah," I smile genuinely. I think back to how mad CJ was earlier and think maybe I should warn Donna about her mood. The last thing this situation needs is for things to escalate because of an irate Press Secretary. "Speaking of CJ, if she's a little abrupt, it's because she's mad at me so don't let that get to you." She's probably mad at Donna too, but Donna doesn't need to know that.

"I'm sorry she was angry at you."

"I'm over it." I'm really not. CJ wasn't just mad at me; she was disappointed in me.

"But still-"

"It's how we are with each other. I do something stupid and she gets mad. It's like a constant in the White House; people would miss it if we stopped, so don't worry about it, Donna."

"I wasn't going to worry," she lies.

"Well, you could worry a little. CJ's scary when she's mad."

"So you're afraid of her?"

"I don't know any man in D.C. who isn't," I shoot back.

"Stan would like her," she nods.

"Stan's on a little feminista kick of her own?"

"Feminista?"

"It's a word."

"One that CJ would kick your ass for using, I'd guess."

"Do you see CJ here right now?"

"If Stan were here she'd kick your ass too," she answers, ignoring my question.

"You're not going to are you? 'Cause I've heard tough love can be fun, but we're not alone right now."

"Get away from me," she snickers.

"And miss out on the punishment?"

"I'm all for kinky, Josh, but I don't think you could handle it."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Josh, you had trouble getting the condom on," she whispers fiercely. "Bending your body into positions to suit me is a tad more complicated," she finishes with a satisfied grin.

My mouth just went dry as I get an instant flash of the positions we experimented with last night. Considering we were too drunk to get the condom to work, I'm thinking it was a fluke those things happened.

But on the up side, if she can get her body to do that when she's drunk, imagine what she could do when she's sober and has full control over her muscles. And the feel of her silky blond hair brushing against my chest-

Need to stop thinking about this now.

Now.

"You could do the bending if you want." What the hell is it with the words not checking themselves with my brain and heading straight for my mouth instead?

"Way to entice a girl there, Josh."

"And anyway," I ignore, my mouth still somewhat dry from the images still flashing in my mind. "The condom thing was because of the drink thing," I manage to say, albeit a tad bit ineloquently.

"You really have a way with words, you know that?" Nice. She just threw my words back at me.

"You know what I meant," I accuse good-naturedly.

"Yes, I did."

"I can be more limber when required," I say indignantly.

"Sure."

"See, you don't remember all the sex last night, because if you did, you'd know."

Her grin instantly vanishes.

Shit.

"I don't think we should go there again, do you?"

I know we shouldn't. I really do. But you have no idea how much I want to.

Shit. I hate it when thoughts like that creep up on me.

I have _got_ to stop thinking like this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Do you think we'd qualify for an annulment?" she interrupts. Great, things just became really uncomfortable again.

"I would think so, but I don't know for sure. CJ has all the information we need waiting for us."

"We'd probably need a lawyer."

"That won't be a problem," I respond. The silence between us is compounding the unease that started since I spoke before I thought. We seem to be wavering on this precarious line and one wrong step has us both free falling back to square one. This isn't how I want our time together to be, and I know I can't guarantee a smooth relationship between us while this situation gets resolved. But I can try and ease the tension for the rest of this flight at least.

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." I really didn't expect to be apologising this much when I woke up today, either.

"You didn't."

"Donna," I sigh. "You suddenly closed yourself off, so I obviously did something wrong, and for that, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to say sorry, Josh. I just… you don't need to say sorry."

We somehow manage to stumble into conversations that are too real right now without even thinking about it. I'm not sure how that keeps happening. Or how we manage to talk without actually saying anything.

"Stan would like you too," she says out of the blue.

_Too_

"Yeah?"

I think this is her way of apologising and I think… I prefer this to _'I'm sorry.'_

"Yes," she smiles. "She'd give you a kick up the backside for the feminista crack, but she'd think you have a cute butt."

"I have been told I have the finest ass in politics," I add casually. Or perhaps smugly, it's a toss up.

"You really need someone to keep your ego in check, Josh."

"So I've been told," I mock sigh.

We seemed to have reached a plateau and so we sit in silence. This time neither of us tries to fill it. Instead, we're both lost in our own little worlds. I watch her as she closes her eyes and leans back, relaxing probably for the first time today. I think about the things we need to talk about, and all the conversations that have been left unfinished between us, and that, maybe we should be having them now. But then I look back at her, and the worry lines seem entrenched. She needs this moment to unwind and so instead I copy her actions and lean back in my seat, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. It's surprisingly not all that relaxing, especially when images of blond hair against my chest- long pale legs wrapped around me, bright blue eyes staring right into me- all assault me.

My eyes snap open and I scrub my hands over my face, taking a peak at Donna to see her eyes still closed. I guess this is why I need to be talking; every time I stop, I see things I shouldn't. I feel things I shouldn't. It hits me like a ton of bricks that she didn't look like this last night. I didn't just have sex with this woman; I made love with her. I remember laughing with her. I remember wanting to capture the image of her in ecstasy and I remember this general feeling of giddiness.

I look at her now and I know those feelings are somewhere in me. They're hard to ignore when they keep creeping up on me and I have to tamp them down, but I'm finding it difficult to get over this as it is. It might be different when she's no longer around, when this is all over. Letting these feelings dissipate then might be easier even if I know what happened last night, but I don't want to find out.

Her ring shining back at me is a glaring reminder that I can't let myself want her anymore. Of course it's then that I look at the ring on my finger and think the ship has pretty much sailed on that one.

Should I take the ring off?

"Josh?"

I've been so lost in my thoughts I hadn't realised an hour has gone by already.

"Yeah?"

"I want to say something, and I need you to not be you. In other words, don't interrupt, ok?"

"Sure," I smile.

"I don't want you to apologise to me about the fact that things sometimes get uncomfortable between us. I like you too much for you to feel sorry about this. It started how it started, and it'll end how it's meant to end, but in the mean time… could we be just be friends?"

"Yeah," I finally croak. "Friends is good."

"Of course, if you screw up beyond belief, like you know, marry another woman while you're married to me," she stops to grin at me, which I can't help but find adorable.

"Then I reserve the right to kick your ass."

Since it seems ok to joke about us now, I shoot back, "I think you have a thing about my ass."

And I know I have a thing about you.


	5. V

_**Disclaimers et al. in part 1**_  
**Acknowledgements: **For Kerry. Words are not enough.

* * *

**When I First Met You **

V

"I got one!"

"You got all excited hailing a cab, that's cute."

"Bite me."

I smirk. "Sure, but let's take this back to my place." I get the impression she's trying not to stick her tongue out at me.

"Would you just get in the cab already?" She's using her exasperated tone, but I can see the smile she's trying to hide.

"Yes, ma'am," I salute. "After you," I grin, gesturing toward the door as I open it. My ringing phone distracts me from teasing Donna further. "Josh Lyman, Love God to all. And how can I help you this fine hour, CJ?"

"You're happy. Too happy. What did you do beetle-boy?"

"Beetle-boy? I just offered you some high grade service, Claudia, and that's all you can say?" I quip while closing the door.

"Josh, three minutes isn't high grade. And before you get all huffy on me I just called for an ETA. Now if you said three minutes for that, you'd have found your only way to satisfy me."

"That's because you've never had true satisfaction, Claudia Jean. I keep telling you that you need to get a love life." I turn to Donna. "CJ wants an ETA."

"I'm sure you could give her one if you'd give the driver an address."

"You didn't tell him where to go?"

"Does it look like we're moving, Casanova? Would you just give him an address before he kicks us out?"

"North side of 1600 Pennsylvania," I tell the cab driver before turning back to CJ. "Listen, CJ—Ow!" I turn sharply toward Donna. "What was the elbow for?"

She looks at me as if I've lost my mind and whispers fiercely, "We're going straight to the White House?"

"Well, yeah." Didn't we discuss this on the plane already?

"The White House," she repeats in a low tone. I slowly move away from her, to the far side of the cab, realizing for the first time how close we were sitting. She's got the aggravated wife thing down _cold_.

"Yes." I nod. "I'm sure CJ has a GPS tracker in my cell-phone."

"You're certifiable, you know that?"

"Well, that's a given."

Donna struggles for some patience, and then asks, "What does the GPS tracker have to do with anything?"

"I'm betting she's had someone doctor it so that if I don't go straight to the White House when she wants, she'll hit a button and my phone will turn into a stun gun."

" _Joshua_."

I should really learn when to shut my mouth.

"CJ! There isn't a chance you didn't hear that? Is there?"

"My stun gun and I will be eagerly awaiting your arrival."

"I don't suppose you could round up a cute little star trek uniform with the stun gun?" I joke. I don't need to hear her response to know it falls flat.

"You have an hour." And the line goes dead. I repeat: I should really learn when to keep my mouth shut. Especially when talking to an already irate Press Secretary.

"We couldn't go to the hotel first?"

"Donna, didn't we cover this already?" I question, shifting my attention back to her.

"No. We did not. I would remember that. I need time to prepare."

"Prepare for what? It's not Buckingham Palace with all its jewels and, you know, the Queen. It's just a big white building with lots of ergonomically incorrect desks. It's the desks you have to watch out for. They do it on purpose, to make sure you don't want to stay past eight years. I bet you it was the Republicans."

You can stop looking at me like I'm an escaped mental patient, Donnatella. I'm only trying to ease the tension. But you know, now that I think about it…

"I'm curious, were you dropped on your head as a baby?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I'm just saying."

"Your little rant doesn't really help right now."

"What's the big deal? It's not like you've never been before."

"Not with a suitcase in tow I haven't."

"That's your concern? We can stash that in my office. See, problem solved."

"Or we could go to the hotel and leave my things there and then head for the White House."

Oh crap. Don't give anything away.

You told me you had your assistant book me a room, remember?" It's a question that's phrased more like a statement.

I did say that. I was, of course, lying through my ass. I think it's prudent to deliver news that could potentially leave me castrated in an open space. So I can, you know, run like a bat out of hell.

She's looking at me with squinted eyes trying to judge if I'm going to tell her the truth or not.

"Sure. It's taken care of, so just sit back and relax."

"Now I'm worried."

"Why would you be worried?"

"What's next 'Put your seats back and trays in an upright position and prepare for a smooth landing into the White House'?" she says in what I assume is meant to be her flight attendant's voice.

"I'm offended."

"I'm still worried."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "But it feels like I should be at least a little bit concerned."

"Donna, you could have a little faith in me."

"I've known you all of five minutes, Josh."

"Well actually—" I smirk.

"Shut up."

"I was just saying—" I shrug, smiling at her obvious attempt to appear stern.

"And I said shut up."

"Oh how I love the way you sweet talk me, Donnatella."

There's no reply. I take my eyes off the road ahead for a moment and take in the blush rising in her cheeks. She clears her throat and says, "Right, just remember that."

_Shut up and kiss me. _

Huh?

* * *

"Remember, Josh, it's only a few drinks to get us going before we head down to the casino and then back to the suite for some adult entertainment—Josh?"

"Yeah," I croak, not taking my eyes off the sight in front of me. Her head is thrown back in laughter, and it's a sound that seems to echo throughout the room.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, loud and clear, man."

"What did I just say?"

"That you're going to come up with a brilliant idea to get us alone together."

"Josh, I love you like my brother, but I just don't swing that way."

"And here I thought I had a real shot at enticing you over to the dark side."

"I like breasts too much."

"I'd go in for the surgery, but somehow I don't think it'll be enough for you. I'd give and give and give and get nothing in return."

Mike laughs, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "You could just go over there."

Does it look I have a death wish, Mike?

"Do you not see how many of them there are?" I sputter.

I'm not brave enough to face her friends. Especially the one who seems to be devouring every man worthy of her attention with her eyes. That's like sending me to the sharks.

"Yes I do, my friend. And it would be my pleasure to watch you squirm your way around a conversation with the blond goddess you can't seem to stay away from. Especially while her friends prepare to bite your balls off, Jaws style, for interrupting their bachelorette party because you can't control your libido."

"This isn't about my libido. And why are we friends again?" I ask, taking a long draw of my drink.

"Here," he says, handing me a glass of whiskey. "You'll need something stronger than Bud-Lite if you're ever going to get the courage to talk to her." I gratefully take the drink and finish it in one go. "And if you don't want her to think you're stalking her, then I'd stop staring." I turn to look at him and he just points back to the table. "Her friend just noticed you."

I turn back to Donna in time to see her friend whisper in her ear, and catch Donna's eye as she looks up toward me.

She gives me the once over and turns back to the table.

That's it. No smile. No shy look. No blushing.

I've been watching her for the past ten minutes with tingles running up my spine and all she does is take a two second look in my direction?

Mike sniggers, "Looks like you have some work to do if you want to get her alone."

"You're a real help, Mike," I shoot back sarcastically. He drags me back to the bar and hands me another drink.

"What did you expect? The first time you met the woman you didn't exactly make the best of impressions and since then..." Mike continues to snigger and shakes his head for added effect. "Look, Josh, the guys are going to want to leave soon, so if you want anything to happen, make it happen. What's the worst case scenario? She turns you down, big deal." He shrugs. "Chase the girl for once instead of waiting for her to chase you."

"Thanks for the pep talk. How long have you been waiting to throw that out?"

"Second year of college."

"You're funny."

"I have my moments."

"I'm particularly impressed with how you managed to say all that without cracking up."

"Those drama classes in high school have really paid off," he quips. I shake my head and laugh. He points to my empty glass. "So, you want another?"

* * *

"Did you take Drama in high school?"

"Er… No?" It's been quiet since our last bantering session about fifteen minutes ago, so the question throws me for a loop. We're stuck on the I-395 and it's looking like the journey may take longer than CJ's designated hour.

"Are you asking, Josh? Because, really, I know you're old, but the memory loss shouldn't kick in for another few years yet." She smiles and her eyes crinkle at her own joke.

"Very funny, Donnatella. And no, I didn't take drama. Was there a reason for the non sequitur?"

"No reason." She fidgets for a moment. I've only seen her move like this when she's nervous. The adrenaline rush you get when you're at crossroads about to take the next step died out about two minutes into our journey toward the White House. We're stuck in limbo here, not sure what should happen next and when the next crossroad will present itself.

"You're boring me."

Of course I am. "I haven't said anything."

"Exactly." She nods.

"Ok, I'll bite. Why 'exactly?"

"I'm in your city, as your guest, under duress I might add. The least you could do is be a gracious host and limit my boredom."

"I believe silence is golden," I shoot back.

"No you don't," she crosses her arms over her chest, the perfect picture of indignance.

"How would you know?"

"How can someone who loves the sound of his own voice think silence is golden?" -she states matter-of-factly. "Next you'll expect me to believe that you think patience is a virtue."

"Patience is a waste of valuable time. But silence, silence is golden. That is a lesson the many women in my life have taught me." Seriously, spend a day with Mandy and your appreciation for silence multiplies ten fold. Spend an hour with Amy and you begin to think the Republicans haven't got it so wrong with the death penalty. Spend a minute with—eh, you get the picture.

"The _many_ women?"

"Well," I shrug, exuding arrogance. "I don't like to brag…"

She snorts. "Says the 'Love god to all.' Let's talk about these_ many _women in your life." She looks almost giddy, getting ready to dissect my love life.

"Why on earth would we want to do that?"

"Because I have a feeling it will entertain me," she shrugs.

"And as your husband I live to entertain you."

She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, and starts, "You never know, Josh, we could have a profound conversation that could very well prepare you to settle down and live like an actual adult. This may be the most important moment of your life, how can you say no to that?"

"And it doesn't hurt that it will entertain you."

"Exactly." She smirks. "Now, where should we start?"

I don't even entertain the idea of telling her the first answer that flashed through my mind as she spoke. If this conversation were to occur during another scenario then my answer would be something else entirely.

I do however, smirk to myself at the thought of her reaction and go with the second, safer answer.

"You can start anywhere you like, but I won't help you finish."

She ignores me and states, "You seem like the type of man that dates women who annoy his friends."

I will not say anything. I will_ not_ say anything. I will—

"I don't."

At least I didn't say a lot. A man's got to defend himself.

"I think you do."

"You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It is what it is."

"So, do you like women to dominate you?"

"Oh for the love of— Yes. I like women who dominate me," I mock.

"I thought so."

"The sarcasm just washes right off you, doesn't it?"

"No it doesn't. But what can I say? When I'm right, I'm right."

"What is that, Donna?" I lean closer and whisper in her ear. "You want to show me some tough love?"

"Yeah, just wait until we're in your office so I can pop open my suitcase and get my equipment," she deadpans.

I gulp.

"You have equipment?"

"I'm surprised I got the suitcase through security without trouble," she answers coyly.

"You're playing with me."

"You make it so easy."

"I was perfectly fine being quiet until you spoke just now."

"No, you weren't. You were having a conversation in your head. Do you know how rude that is, with your guest sitting right next to you?"

Huh?

"Are you still drunk? Is this meant to make sense in any universe?"

"It made sense," she huffs.

"Sit tight and enjoy the views, Donna."

"I'm in a cab stuck in DC traffic. Exactly what views should I be enjoying?"

"Well, you have a—" I smirk.

"Don't say it."

I shrug. "I'm just saying."

"So… Is the President working today?"

I grin. "I don't think there's a day where he's not working."

"So, theoretically, I could bump into him?"

"Unless you have something of national importance that he should know about, I doubt it."

"Are you sure you work for him? Does he even_ know _you? Because really, he seemed sane to me when I voted for him." I think the unspoken implication there is, ' _How could a sane man hire you_?'

"I happen to be good at my job."

"So it's just everything else you need lessons in."

"Are you offering to be my teacher?"

"It's a full time job and I'm afraid I have better things to do with my time."

"Sucks for me then."

"Yes it does."

* * *

"Drink up guys, time to move on!" Everyone hoots and hollers excitedly, attracting the attention of the dining guests around us. I reluctantly finish my drink and prepare to leave when Mike pulls me aside.

"Not you. You are going over to that table and asking the pretty lady to dance. I am not going back to Washington with you whining about not gathering rosebuds."

"Rosebuds? What the hell did you do? Go to sleep and wake up as your mother?"

"No, yours. Now get your ass over there."

"I'm going," I say, putting my hands out in surrender. "I'm going."

I start walking towards Donna, trying to catch her eyes before I reach her. Before I know it I'm almost at her table. I take a quick look back over my shoulder only to realize all the guys have left, except Mike, who doesn't look like he's going to be leaving any time soon; instead he raises his glass and grins. I turn back to Donna and stop dead in my tracks only two steps away from her.

Wow.

That dress is… the slit… and where the hell is the back?

My mind is racing and my jaw agape, my legs stricken in place, any hope of looking even slightly intelligent or you know, sane, has flown out of the window as I watch Donna climb onto her chair. I wish I could meet her eyes, the only problem being I can't get past the thigh high slit of her dress revealing long creamy legs and a backless dress showing off her beautifully sculptured and flawless back.

My brain can't distinguish the words; the only thing that registers is the sound of her voice.

And those legs, because those are some pretty damn sexy legs.

She bends down as a waiter catches her attention and passes a bottle of champagne, giving me a prime view of her firm ass.

"Wow."

Donna turns around sharply with the champagne in hand spilling everywhere as she trips on her dress, falling off the chair and clumsily into my arms. Stumbling back, I lose my balance and land flat on my ass with Donna clinging on top of me giving me her evil eye.

Ah crap. I said that out loud.

"Okay, Donna, I'm a strong guy, but when someone lands on you like that, even the Iron Man champion would have trouble holding their balance. Or it could be the moment you hit my arms all my blood rushed somewhere else."

Did I really just say that?

"Josh, move your hand off my ass. Now."

Guess I did.

"Oh, right." I remove my hands like I'm trying to run away from the plague. "Done."

We scramble together to stand up, and Donna takes a step back as soon as she's upright. Her friends, who were expressing concern not two seconds ago, all burst into fits of laughter. I look at Donna, who is blushing like a bride, and take a look in the direction her eyes seem to be glued on.

It takes a second to register her friends are howling at the rapidly decreasing tent in my trousers. And now** I'm** blushing like the bride.

"GO, Donna!" her friends cheer.

"Would you guys quieten down? We're not a bunch of horny high school cheerleaders! Everyone's watching," Donna whispers fiercely, still blushing red and completely embarrassed.

"Says the former Captain of the 'Wisconsin Bulls' cheerleading squad," her friend manages to supply during her fit of laughter.

"I was a cheerleader for two whole hours, when are you going to let that go?"

"No, my dear, you weren't just any cheerleader, you were the captain, for two whole hours. And I'll let it go when it stops getting to you."

"Fine. It's no longer going to have an effect."

"Yeah, I can see that, Bella."

I grin, my embarrassment forgotten as I watch her adjust her dress and avoid the curious gaze of one of her friends. She's focusing on wiping the presents left haphazardly on the table after being unwrapped, when she turns to glare at me.

"Get your ass over here and wipe."

I take a step closer to make sure I heard her right.

"This is all your fault," she mutters.

"How is this my fault!" I exclaim, incredulous. I'm also on the verge of giggling like a school girl.

I wonder if she still has the uniform.

"You said, you know—you spoke!" Donna explains eloquently.

"And that somehow equates with you tripping over your dress—which, by the way, should be illegal—and falling all over me?" I shoot back, grinning as I take a step forward and help her clean up the champagne.

She's about to retort, when her friend jumps in. "Yes, Donna, how does this fine gentleman shouting out ' **wow**'—"

"Hey, backup there, I didn't shout—Ow!" Donna elbows me and shoots me a glare. I promptly shut up.

"Mel, be quiet and help clean up." I grin at Mel, since she's now on the receiving end of Donna's scolding which, you know, means she's not yelling at me for a second. To keep myself in her good graces, I absently pick up a gift and start wiping it, my eyes focused on Donna as she avoids my gaze.

"Yeah, in a sec. So, Josh, is it? Who's the dreamy man that came into the bar with you and is currently watching you make an ass out of yourself?"

"Melanie! **Be quiet**!" Donna's head shoots up and her whole body is blushing. Suddenly I feel like I've missed out on the inside joke as Donna takes a quick peek over my shoulder to look at Mike.

Wait.

**Mike? **

She likes** Mike? **

"And take the Rabbit away from Josh. We don't want him to start comparing sizes in a respectable establishment as he manhandles the thing."

"I haven't manhandled anything," I shoot back automatically, glaring at Donna. As an afterthought, I add, "What the hell is a **Rabbit** anyway?" My eyes are now glued to the small smile on her face.

She likes Mike?

"That is the vibrator that our good friend Jenny over here will be experimenting with on her wedding night. We've heard it's one of David's fantasies," Melanie pipes up, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "So, Josh, you planning on letting go anytime soon?" She gestures to the item in my hand.

"I'm just going to go wash my hands," Donna says quietly, trying not to laugh at the way I just dropped the** thing** like a sack of hot potatoes. "Champagne, who knew it could be so sticky?" she shrugs, holding up her hand as evidence.

"And, I'm going to go back over there," I say, pointing in the direction where Mike is sitting and chatting away with a redhead. "And, Mel," I say, looking at Donna. "His name is Mike."

His name is Mike, and Donna likes him.

* * *

"How long, Josh?"

"We're here, CJ. I'm unloading as we speak." I'm actually watching the cab driver unload Donna's suitcase as I speak. Needless to say, we've reached the White House.

"Do I need to tell you where your first stop is?"

"CJ, we'll be there in less than a minute." I snap my cell shut and watch as Donna steps out of the cab, sizing up her surroundings, looking like she's planning to bolt the second I take my eyes off her. I don't take any chances and pay the driver and watch him go.

"We're here," she states. She takes a step closer to me and asks haltingly, "So, what's next?"

"CJ wants to see us."

"I meant after that." I know. I just haven't thought that far ahead. This is surprising in itself, given the fact that I'm always thinking three steps ahead even if the situation doesn't require it.

However, right now, I'm stuck in the past.

_Shut up and kiss me_.

"If CJ lets me walk out of her office alive, then we'll tackle, you know…" I trail off and let the sentence hang, as there are any number of White House staff and reporters milling around.

I cock my head to the side and wait for her reaction. She takes a moment to contemplate and then starts walking into the White House. "You're carrying the luggage."

"Only one of these cases is mine," I point out.

"I'm aware of that," she states haughtily.

"And yet, here I am, dragging two suitcases, one of which happens to weigh a ton."

"It does not and you insisted on coming here first, so you carry it. I'm not walking into the White House with a suitcase."

"Because everyone here cares about that."

"Why would I care what anyone else thinks?"

"Then why am I the one lugging this thing about?" She shrugs and tries her best to hide her grin as I sigh in exasperation. It's a pointless conversation that she's taking great pleasure in only because it's annoying the hell out of me. "You know, there's a universe out there where you're the one following me about, catering to my every whim," I sigh, imaging such a beautiful world. It's becoming a guilty pleasure.

"Does it look like that's going to happen here anytime soon?"

I drop my head. "No."

We stop at the front desk to sign Donna in before we start making our way to the bullpen.

"Josh, if it's too much for you to carry my small suitcase, I have no objections carrying it." She of course says this in front of the duty guard stationed by the desk as she smiles at him.

Is she_ flirting? _

Now, if I was Sam Seaborn, I would have taken the bait. Hell I would have puffed out my chest and proudly proclaimed that I've got everything under control.

I am obviously not Sam.

"That's great, here's the handle." I dump the handle to her case in her hands and start making my way toward the bullpen, not really waiting for her to follow.

"You're not a gentleman."

"Never claimed to be one."

"I'll be sure to remember that."

I didn't really have a problem carrying her case, I just expected more banter if I didn't. I'm kinda disappointed now.

"So…" I start, as we enter the bullpen. We're almost at my office when I ask, "You were a cheerleader?"

"We're in the White House."

I grin. "I can see that."

She's looking at me like she's a constipated two year old trying to figure out how to get the poop out.

Rose, you gotta love her. Who knew Mandy's offspring would be that cute.

"We are standing outside, what I assume is your office, in the_ White House_, and you want to know if I was a cheerleader?"

"That's pretty much the gist of it." I nod.

"Shouldn't you be meeting with CJ, right now?"

"She can wait," I start, leading Donna into my office. "I'm curious is all."

Donna turns her head in my direction. "Why?"

"You, as a Cheerleader; it presents a nice mental image."

"Why oh why do I think you're imagining the uniform?" She raises a perfectly sculptured eyebrow. And then mutters, "Or lack there of." I watch as Donna takes an inventory of my home away from home. She's bypassed the books and the mess and has gone straight for the photos on the wall.

"You can't mention equipment and not expect a guy to get ideas, Donna," I say, distracting her from further examining my small collection of personal assets scattered around. I watch as she fingers the picture of my grandfather and I and smiles a little before she turns to face me.

She looks at me for a moment, trying to read my motives for continuing with the light conversation. We're here now. I should be meeting with CJ and getting my ass kicked in person. I should be in Leo's office either watching him laugh at my stupidity or sighing in disappointment. We should be getting this marriage annulled and moving on with our lives as if nothing happened.

We should not be engaging in pointless dialogues that serve no other purpose but to delay the inevitable.

"That conversation was a lifetime ago," she replies with a smile.

I guess we agree: pointless conversation is better than the alternative. I'm just not sure either of us understands what that means.

"And yet it seems as if an hour hasn't even passed."

"Funny that."

"There isn't any chance you still have it, is there?"

"You really are a perverted old man." It's not so much the perverted old man as it is the horny high school geek that's imagining her in her cheerleader outfit.

"So I'll take that as a yes," I divert.

"Yes, Josh, not only do I have the cheerleader uniform that I wore for all of two minutes," she starts, sarcasm in full force. "I carry it around with me everywhere in the hopes that I would one day run into you and fulfil your fantasy."

"That's a lofty goal you have there."

"I live to serve," she deadpans.

"I wouldn't complain if you wanted to whip the old thing out and take it for a spin," I whisper in her ear.

"I think CJ is waiting."

That she is. I really should make my way over to Claudia Jean.

However…

What are the chances that Donna actually _does_ have some sort of equipment in there?

"Josh, what are you doing?" she asks as I continue to stare at her carryon.

"Wishing I had x-ray vision."

"What?"

I said that out loud. It seems to be an illness that I just can't seem to shake.

"Nothing."

Nothing at all.

"I don't have equipment in there."

_How the hell? _

"That's not what I was thinking."

"I bet," she smirks. "You should probably go."

"I probably should."

"And yet, here you stand."

"You get to know me a little more and you'll realise I get caught in enough crossfire already without actively seeking an ass kicking."

"Crossfire?"

"I don't rat on my friends."

"I get to know you a little more and maybe I'll actually follow your logic."

"It's simple. My friends are the type of people who leap without thinking, open their mouths before their brains are engaged, that kind of thing."

"I would imagine that often causes trouble," she smirks.

"You assume correctly."

"And these friends of yours--"

"Sam, Charlie, sometimes Ed and Larry--"

"I have absolutely no idea who these people are."

"It doesn't matter. Just avoid them like the plague," I interrupt, sifting through the mass amounts of junk that has piled up on my desk in my absence.

"Because they're likely to get me into trouble," she states with her sceptic voice.

"No, because Sam's unnaturally white teeth will blind you."

"Of course they will," she mocks. "So let me make sure I have this right. You have friends that are…" she trails off trying to find the right words. "Idiots. And they seem to love creating trouble, which you just_ happen _to get caught in." Her sceptic voice is out in full force.

"I wouldn't call them idiots," I defend. She raises an eyebrow, as if to say, ' _yeah, I know who the idiot here is, Josh_.' I grin in answer, as if to say, _Donnatella, I may be an idiot, but I'm your—_' Yeah. I stop grinning right there.

I clear my throat. "That pretty much covers it."

"And CJ realises that you're the weak link--"

"I'm not the weak link. That would be Sam."

"And yet she comes looking for you when she's forced to fix a mess your friends created." She now has her ' _How long is this going to last? Because, I'm getting bored already indulging you_,' face on.

"I'll make a long story short—"

"Please do."

I give her my annoyed face. "She works for the biggest trouble maker there is out there—"

"She works for the President."

"My point exactly."

Donna looks at me and realises that I could make this exchange last forever if given the chance, so she skips ahead and states, "So what you're saying is she'll come looking for you?"

It's a pretty fair assumption since CJ always coming looking for me when there's trouble ahead.

I look at my watch. "Give her a few minutes, she'll stroll in here, pretend she didn't know I had company, fish for information, and then drag me out of here by the ear."

"Your ear?"

"She'll like you and want to humiliate me."

"You don't need her help for that," she grins. "So how much longer before she comes looking for you?"

"Tobias Zachary Ziegler!"

"That was freakish timing," Donna says, impressed.

"That was not CJ," I correct.

"Toby, get your ass where I can see it!"

"Wow, that was… loud."

I grin at Donna. "Wait until she shouts my name."

"How do you know she—"

"Joshua Lyman, I swear to God, if you're hiding Toby, I will kick your ass seven ways to Sunday." And then she bursts through the door.

"Donnatella Moss, meet Madeline Hampton-Parks. Mandy, meet Donna." Mandy stops short and looks at Donna. Well, stares at her in fact. Mandy keeps looking between Donna and me. It would be quite comical if I didn't have a sinking feeling about this.

"Hi," Donna says politely.

"Donnatella… Donna?" Mandy asks as if she's trying to place the name. "CJ wasn't kidding?"

Oh shit.

"Mandy—"

"You actually got married?" she asks, sceptical.

"Mandy—"

I'm getting a little offended that my closest friends seem to think I would never get married. Sure, I wasn't planning on tying the knot any time soon, but I've thought about it. It's hard not to when you're confined to bed rest for months after being shot. And even without that, it's not like I was planning on spending my life alone or jumping from a bridge to end my misery.

"She's blond." Mandy says this as if it's more important than the fact that I got married.

"I'm sorry?" Donna looks at Mandy like she should be in an insane asylum. I'm thinking right now it'd be a great place for her to disappear to.

It takes Mandy a minute to answer. The woman is still trying to process the last five minutes. "Josh doesn't date blonds, the fact that he married one—"

"I've dated blonds," I interject defensively.

"Name one."

"That is so not the point," I rebut. Yes, I am five years old.

"Josh, sit down and think of a name," Mandy glares. A mischievous smiles lights up her face as she winks at me and then turns to face Donna. "In the meantime, Donna— may I call you Donna? If you want to send me a fruit basket for the pleasure he gave you on your wedding night, I won't mind."

The hell?

_A fruit basket? _

Mandy grins, and somewhere down there in hell even Satan shuddered.

"A fruit basket?" I ask.

Mandy ignores me and turns to Donna, adding, "Because, I taught him everything he knows."

"She's kidding. Tell Donna you're kidding."

"I'm really not."

The shock at being present for this conversation is taking some time to wear off. Seriously, Mandy has met at least ninety percent of the women I've dated since we broke up, and not once has this type of conversation occurred-- at least not in my presence.

I don't really want to imagine the conversations that have occurred in my absence.

Donna grins at my mortified expression and turns back to face Mandy. "I think he forgot everything you taught him," she mock whispers.

What the_ hell_?

"That is so not what you said last night."

"You don't remember last night," Donna shoots back.

Damn. The woman has a point.

"I remember orgasms, Donna. Multiple orgasms."

Mandy walks over to the mini fridge, grabs a Yoohoo and some chips and takes a seat in my visitors' chair.

Donna snorts.

"And I remember you couldn't get a condom on." This is the first time talking about last night doesn't leave Donna looking weary or trying to run from the room. I'd take it as a good sign except she decides to do this with Mandy in the room.

"One time, Donnatella—"

"Wait," Mandy interrupts. She chokes on her drink trying to stop herself from laughing. "You couldn't--" She loses her battle and cracks up. "Oh that's just classic. Does CJ know? Please tell me she doesn't know."

"She knows," I answer, fiercely. "And it was one time." Maybe two, quite possibly three. "And I was drunk for crying out loud!"

"Ah yes, you do have a sensitive system."

Oh, for the love of all things holy.

"Donna, excuse us for a second— Mandy, outside. Now."

Mandy takes her sweet time following me out, turning around to wink at Donna just before I close the door.

"You got married?" she chuckles.

"Say that a little louder; I don't think the President heard you in the Oval."

"He's in the Residence at the moment."

"We got drunk." Why doesn't anyone seem to remember that? "It was a mistake."

"You know, the next time you say that, you might want to say it like you believe it."

"Mandy." I lean back against my assistants' cubicle as Mandy takes a moment to appraise me.

"Oh shut up, Josh," she scoffs. "Before I tell you how much of an idiot you are, I just want to say that I like her."

You and me both.

"You spoke to her for all of two seconds."

"And she used her two seconds wisely and made a joke at your expense. If that doesn't warrant her an invitation to join the sisterhood, I don't know what does."

"You're funny, you know that?"

"How did you manage to get yourself in to this kind of situation, Josh?" she asks with kindness. "This we expect of Sam."

I smile reluctantly. This woman may be the bane of my existence but she's also someone I couldn't live without. It's amazing what happens when I stop dating the women I date and actually form friendships with them instead.

She knows I don't have an answer to her question, or at the least, for whatever reason, I'm not looking all that hard to find it, so she lets me off the hook. "You're meeting with CJ?" she asks instead.

"Yeah, in a minute. You're looking for Toby?"

"I stole a rolling pin from the mess. When I find that man I will knock his ass into tomorrow with it."

I chuckle. "When he's hiding from you he's usually near pie."

"Toby has pie hidden everywhere, that doesn't help me any." I shrug. She hesitates before asking, "I take it you haven't told Toby yet?" I nod my head in the affirmative. "You know that Toby knows her fiancé?"

"Yeah."

"It's a safe bet he knows Donna, then. You should probably find him and clue him in before anyone else can."

"I should find CJ first."

Mandy laughs. "She's been in her office looking out of her window and glaring in your direction since you stepped into the building."

I look up in the direction of CJ's office and see her leaning against her door. I nod to indicate I'll be there in a few.

"How is she?"

"She was mad about two hours ago. As long as you haven't done anything else between now and then, you'll walk out of there alive."

I start to walk back to my office to let Donna know I'm about to see CJ. "I'm just going to let Donna know—"

"I could keep her company while you get your ass chewed by CJ. I've always wanted to share horror stories with your wife; who knows if I'll ever get another chance."

"As much as the idea of you sharing_ any_ stories with my wife fills me with untold joy, I think I'll pass."

"She's in a strange place, Josh, after what I can only imagine has been a whirlwind of an experience, she might want some company right now."

"You think?"

"I honestly don't know. She might be grateful for the distraction, or she might beat CJ to the punch and send you to an early grave for leaving her alone with the Wicked Witch of the East."

"Don't sell yourself short there. Your satanic tendencies have implications across the globe."

"Don't push it," she warns, playfully.

"Sorry."

"If it looks like she wants to be alone, then you can be satisfied with the knowledge I know how to walk out of a door."

"You may know how to, but you don't always know when to," I tease. She glares at me. "What about Toby?"

"He can wait for another day," she replies with a casual air.

"It didn't sound like it before."

"I didn't have anything else to entertain me before. Now go see CJ, before she loses her patience."

As if on cue CJ shouts, "Captain Smartypants, get your bony ass over here."

I motion towards my closed office door as I start to walk backwards to CJ's office. "You'll…"

"Good luck," Mandy offers, before opening the door and walking through. I turn around, and attempt to face CJ. Something I've been avoiding since I stepped into the building.

* * *

"This can't be good." He smirks. With a sentence like that you'd think he'd show some sympathy.

"Gee, what gave it away?"

"Because you look like Republicans just won back the White House."

"Yeah, the world just came to an end," I quip.

He slides his drink across and nods to the bartender for another. "Details, Josh."

"Something very wrong just happened."

Seriously. Mike? She likes** Mike**?

"So the worst case scenario, huh?"

"Oh, much worse. It turns out the woman has no taste."

Mike almost chokes on his drink through his laughter. "She what?"

"Gomers."

"Gomers?"

"Yeah, you know, piss ants that… Gomers!"

"Ah, Gomers. And who falls under that category?"

"That would be you."

"Seriously?" he grins, not at all insulted with the prospect of a hot blond interested in him. He looks like he's contemplating taking a trip over to her table to try his luck.

I shoot him a glare and he grins.

"Sorry, man."

"Yeah, I see that." He just shrugs. Dick. "There really is no accounting for taste."

"I would take offence to that, but I got a beautiful woman interested in me. So really, take your best shot." Smug bastard.

"I wouldn't get too attached to that feeling. One woman out of you know… the many that are here isn't a good outcome."

"Joshua Lyman at a loss for words really is a sight to see." The asshole is grinning.

"That was a complete sentence. Where the hell did I lose the words?"

"That would be right about when you find out that she prefers my devilishly good looks and sophisticated personality to your--well, you."

I snort. Sophisticated personality my ass. "Like I said, there really is no accounting for taste."

"Yeah, I wonder why she could possibly like a guy who's initiated intellectual conversations with her and made her laugh," he shoots back sarcastically.

"I have a quality," I shrug.

He snorts. "Josh, I know that the alpha females of Washington find your flirtation technique somewhat endearing—I don't pretend to understand how that works—"

"It's because I'm also ruggedly handsome."

He snorts even louder this time. "Right, whatever floats your boat. But my point is, in the real world—"

"And you consider Vegas the real world?"

"In the **real world**, insulting a woman and then not five minutes later flirting with her friend isn't the best first impression to make."

I never insulted her. Just, well, kinda…

"It was a misunderstanding." He gives me a look. "How was I meant to know she was going to take offence?"

"You were you and she's a member of the opposite sex. What did you expect?"

"Thanks for the support."

"Right, because this is going to scar you for life." He smirks.

"It might. She could be the 'one'." I grin.

There's an evil glint in Mike's eyes as he says, "What is that I see in your future? Little blond rugrats running around your feet giving you hell?"

"I am so not having blond children."

"And what is so wrong with blond kids?"

That bastard.

I shake my head, throwing a quick glare toward Mike before turning around to face an adorably annoyed Donnatella Moss. And I can't help but grin as I reply, "Absolutely nothing, Donnatella."

"So you won't be the proud father of a blond child because…?"

"Are you offering, Donnatella?"

"Quit it with the Donnatella!" she orders.

"No."

"You didn't answer the question, **Joshua**." She says **Joshua** with all the venom she can muster while trying to fight a smile.

"I have strong genes, they're bound to supersede anything else, **Donnatella**." I place emphasis on her name just to annoy her some more.

"God help them if they inherit your ego too," she mutters.

"As long as the dimples get passed down they'll be fine," Mel pipes up, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

"It's not ego; it's confidence," I shoot back.

At my reply Mel whispers in Donna's ear and shrugs as Donna starts to giggle.

What the hell?

"Wanna share with the class, ladies?" Mike shares my sentiments exactly. I knew there was a reason I kept this guy around.

Mel pipes up, "All I said was as long as the kid inherits Josh's 'rabbit' he'll be fine." Donna erupts into full blown laughter as Mike looks around confused for a second and then notices Mel's concerted stare at my** nether region** and joins Donna.

"Are we done having fun at my expense?"

"Well, we could go on all night, but if you want to cry uncle…" Donna grins.

I glare at her.

"So, what can we do for you ladies?"

"We were wondering if you'd like to join us for the evening." Mel answers.

Donna turns toward her friend and gives her a look as if to ask, ' **We were**?'

"We would love to, however, that would interfere with my mission, so I'm afraid we must decline," Mike answers with a flirtatious tone, looking toward Donna.

Traitor.

"And what mission would that be?" Donna replies back airily.

Mike steps in again. "To get this man laid and in every tabloid paper in the country," he reveals a tad too quickly. I just laugh and shake my head.

"Aw, you don't need to leave for that," Mel grins, looking at a blushing Donna. "Despite the lame pick up lines, you're cute, and the size comparison did you some favours, so you could get lucky right here, that is if you're man enough," she shoots back, smirking at me.

Mike sniggers.

"Brunettes aren't really my type," I interject, before Mike say's something I'll regret.

"So tell me your favourite colour and 30 minutes later I'll be your soul mate," Mel flirts, leaning closer.

"Wow," I cough. "That's so Pretty Woman," Mike says simultaneously.

"And look how she got the guy."

"Michael here is the guy who can commandeer a limo whenever he wants, not me," I say, smiling at her.

"But it's not the Limo I'm interested in," she says, while stroking my arm and grinning.

I take a moment to appraise Mel. She's about medium height, slim with long wavy brown hair that only the word luscious fits. She's got fiery green eyes and creamy skin that has a glow to it. She's actually very beautiful: you could almost describe her as a sultry siren.

"Should Donna and I leave you to get a room?" Mike pipes up, smirking at me.

"No one said you couldn't join in, handsome." Mel winks at Mike as he blushes.

"It wouldn't be polite to leave Donna alone," I shoot back.

"Donna here says buy her a drink before you shoot off on your adventure. She'll find her own Prince Charming." Donna huffs her annoyance at Mel and throws a fake smile her way before swinging those razor sharp orbs in my direction, and raises an eyebrow, impatiently waiting for my reply.

I smirk.

"Who knows what I'll turn into if I'm kissed by a princess?" I say, looking directly into Donna's eyes. She blushes and offers a serene smile. Mel takes a step back from me and grins from ear-to-ear, as if she's just achieved her mission.

"Can I gag or are you going to redeem yourself?" I shoot Mike a look.

Shut up.

"So, are you guys going to buy us drinks or..."

* * *

"Captain Smartypants is at your service," I grin. I lean against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other and my arms crossed over my chest, striking the most casual pose I can muster.

CJ's seated behind her desk, flicking through the papers in front of her while answering someone on the phone and indicating for me to come in. "Declan, I understand. You know that's not going to work for us right now. I tell you what, I'll put you through to the First Lady's Office and you can deliver the message yourself. Yeah, I didn't think so."

I take a seat on her very comfortable couch, almost melting into the soft folds. I sit back and close my eyes, taking the moment to unwind. I don't even notice when CJ ends her conversation and gets up to close the door.

"Hey yourself, Mi Amore," she replies with a sweet smile on her way back to her desk. I'm on full alert, my eyebrows are somewhere up in my hairline. CJ being sweet when she should be in ass kicking mode sends warning bells everywhere.

She walks just past me when she stops and turns around. "Wait, I can't say that anymore, not to someone else's HUSBAND!"

"OW! CJ!" I really should have expected the smack across the back of my head.

"Oh please, it was a clip."

"Is it out of your system now?"

"I'd like to say yes, but I can't guarantee it," she shrugs as she plops into her chair. She takes a moment, probably deciding which way is the best to attack. "How are you?"

I rub my hands over my face and rake them through my hair. "Would it be okay if I said tired?"

"If it's any consolation, you don't look like crap. You look so well rested it's disgusting."

"They say an endorphin release will do that for you."

I'm pretty sure I released a lot of them last night.

"That's a mental image I don't need."

"Oh, we all know how that's not true, Claudia Jean."

"My own nocturnal exploits are so good, Josh, that there's no room to even consider yours."

"You keep telling yourself that. When was the last time you threw caution to the wind, knocked all the teddy bears off the bed and had some crazy monkey fun?"

"About the same time I took out my Josh voodoo doll and hovered over a certain area with pins."

"Now_ that_'s a mental image no man should ever be introduced to." CJ smirks.

"I caught a glimpse earlier," she starts.

"Yeah?"

"Not what I expected. I'm not sure what I expected, but she wasn't it. She's pretty, but you know, not..."

_'She's beautiful,' _I correct automatically in my head. I must have conveyed something in my face as CJ raises an eyebrow as if to say ' _I heard that_.'

Instead of calling me on it she starts on a different tangent. "It's amazing how easy it is to get an annulment in this great nation of ours."

"What do we have to do?"

"There are various forms that you have to fill in, obviously." She hands me a folder with the forms inside.

I look at the papers as I ask, "How long will it take?"

"Who knows? The information I read said two-to-three weeks for court processing time, but then you have pop-culture icons staying married for less than seventy-two hours."

"Do Donna and I need to book a flight back out to Nevada for this?"

"If you have the papers witnessed by a Notary you don't have to go back to Nevada to get the annulment. I'm sure someone in the counsels' office is a Notary, but I don't know how wise it is to have a government lawyer be a witness."

"I have a friend."

"I figured as much." We both sit in silence for a few moments.

"Is that it?"

"You lost me."

"I thought there'd be more pain involved. Definitely more of you yelling at me. Maybe a little physical abuse… not that the head smack wasn't enough. But, you know, I did hear you'd been trawling Ebay for old torture devices."

"Sam has a big mouth."

I sneer.

"Is that what you honestly thought? As soon as you stepped into the building I'd be ready and waiting with my Press Secretary hat?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm honestly in no mood to keep playing the role of your mother, Josh," she sighs. "We're friends and colleagues. As your friend I don't want to see you get hurt, as your colleague, I don't want to see the administration get burned. But this situation, while it has the potential to be a disaster, I don't think it will be." She knocks on her desk as she says this. "If anything, I think you'll be the one— there's just not much for me to say right now."

I look at her earnestly, feeling guilty for painting her in an assigned stereotypical role.

She accepts my silent apology with her usual panache. "Anyway, you still have to tell Leo and Toby. I thought that'd be enough punishment for you. Of course, this doesn't include the daily punishment I will force on you."

I avoid looking at CJ, the thought of confessing to Leo about this, much less Toby, is enough to send my stomach plummeting into the ground.

"So have you remembered anything more about what happened?" she asks sympathetically.

"Not really," I exhale.

"What about Donna?"

"I don't know."

"How is she?"

"She's… I honestly don't know. It's complicated."

"It sometimes help to talk about stuff like this, you might find a way to un-complicate things."

"I get a flash of what happened and I want her to explain it to me. Ask her if she remembers. But I can't because then things become real. Conversations become uncomfortable. And you know what the worst thing is?"

"What?"

"I can tell when she has those moments too, and instead of being able to—I don't know, compare notes, we clam up. It gets awkward and the silence becomes suffocating. Then one of us starts up a pointless conversation because we'd rather not sit there with this tension in the air. And…"

"And what?" she asks with infinite kindness.

"Then we forget that we screwed up."

Talking about nothing doesn't seem pointless anymore, because the more I do that, the more I get to know her.

It took me half an hour to come see CJ, and it wasn't because I didn't want my ass kicked or to listen to her berating me, because I deserve that. It took me half an hour because talking to CJ makes this real.

When I'm with Donna I don't feel like I screwed up.

"Josh." CJ says my name with a hint of warning.

"I know." And I do. The ' _what if's' _just seem to grow with each passing second.

CJ starts to say something, but stops herself, and instead pinches the bridge of her nose and states, "Look, if she tells the Congressman that's it's over between them then you can do whatever the hell you want. Stay married and have 2.5 kids for all I care. But while she's still engaged, Josh, you have to stay away."

"That's not a problem," I assert.

"You sure? Because it looks like you might have a thing."

"Yeah, I mean, it's a thing, a small insignificant thing. It'll blow over."

"Exactly. Plenty of fish in the sea."

I smirk. "Any fish in particular you'd like me to go hunt?"

"Are there any left in the tri-state area for you to hunt?"

"I'm sure I could find a couple here and there."

"You really are a man-whore."

"Yeah, that's me," I snort. "Joshua Lyman Esquire – Man Whore Extraordinaire."

"You should put that on your business card," CJ quips as we hear a knock on the door. Mandy slips inside and takes a seat across from me.

"Her phone rang," Mandy responds to my silent question.

"You've met her?" asks CJ eagerly.

"I have indeed." Mandy grins serenely, and once again I'm afraid.

"Did you leave my manhood intact?" Mandy ignores me and continues her conversation with CJ.

"It looks like Josh's taste in women has improved over the last forty-eight hours."

"You realise you were one of those women," I point out.

"I'm the exception to the rule," she shoots back indifferently. Mandy likes to continuously find fault with the women that have been in my life, always forgetting the fact that she was one of them. "I think she blacked out when she agreed to marry the dumb-ass over here." She shoots me her, ' _I'd like to say one sentence without you being you,' look. _

I give her my, ' _Quit unnecessarily trying to paint me as the idiot and I'll let you say whatever the hell you want without interrupting_,' look.

We communicate a lot without uttering a word, Mandy and I.

"Which reminds me, CJ," Mandy starts with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Did you set up the blood tests yet?"

Blood tests?

"I set up the appointments but haven't spoken to Miss Blackout or Casanova here." CJ bites her lower lip to keep her from laughing.

"Don't have to worry on that front," Mandy grins. "Donna would love to know what drugs Josh used to subdue her normally impeccable judgement."

Oh that's just perfect. Every man in this building hates it when these two women gang up on them. Add Dr. B into the mix and you get a very vivid look into our nightmares.

"You guys are just too funny, you know that?" I sit back and just watch them have their fun. It's much more preferable to objecting to their every joke and making a bigger fool of myself.

CJ sniggers and Mandy continues to ignore me. "You'd like her. She's sassy. Suffice to say, she's not like we'd thought she'd be."

"You have to like a woman with sass," CJ grins. "When do I get to meet her, Josh?" As much as CJ doesn't want to get involved in this mess, she looks as if she's positively salivating at the thought of sharing horror stories with my wife.

She's living under the misguided conception that my wife will not know of these_ quirks_ when she agrees to spend her life with me.

She'll also be somewhat disappointed when she realises that Donna won't be surprised by any stories she might share with her.

"She's right across the bullpen, CJ."

CJ makes a move to stand up and gestures to Mandy to follow suit. "Come, Madeline, you can do the honours."

I stretch out on the couch and smirk, not falling for the act. CJ raises an eyebrow before walking out the door.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

One.

One…

On-

"It's no fun when you don't play, Josh," CJ gripes, plopping down on the couch beside me.

I shrug. "You're going to meet with her at some point today, and it's not going to happen anywhere but in this office. We both know that."

"He's got you there," Mandy agrees.

"So, where is she staying?" CJ asks, moving on.

I don't answer and it doesn't take long for CJ to connect the dots.

"Josh…" It's my name phrased as a question with so many implications. The loudest of which is ' _she'd better not be staying with you_.'

"She's—"

"No," she states adamantly. And then whacks me on the head for good measure.

"There are brains cells that you kill every time you hit me on the head, Claudia Jean."

"And as you so often love to tell us, you have them to spare; losing one or two won't reduce your IQ. It might, however, knock some sense into you."

"CJ," I implore. "Hear me out."

"Absolutely not. Pick a hotel. D.C. has an abundance of them."

"We put her in a hotel and then there's a possibility her fiancé finds out."

"How?" I don't answer. Donna may be engaged to a congressman, but that doesn't imply automatic fame. The chances of anyone actually recognising her are slim to none. "Exactly."

"Actually, I think Josh has a point," Mandy pipes up. "It takes one friend of the congressman's to recognise her and mention to her fiancé in passing that they saw her in here."

Thank you, Mandy!

"As much as it pains me to say this, she makes a valid point."

"We'll ignore the fact that genius over here bought her to the White House; if there's anywhere she's likely to get recognised it's here with the reporters not 100 feet away," Mandy shoots back at me.

"But the point stands, we don't want this to get back to the congressman," I say, trying to get back on track.

"Right, and the logical conclusion the guy will make is that she married the White House Deputy Chief of Staff and he forced her to come back to D.C. with him."

"I think we can all agree that's highly unlikely, but do you want even the tiniest hint of a possibility that he'll ask questions?"

CJ considers Mandy for a moment and then concedes, "Fine, she can stay with me."

"No," I reply forcefully.

"No?" she asks, incredulous.

"She doesn't know you," I explain.

"She doesn't know you either."

"Need I remind you about the endorphin release?"

"Oh, please don't."

"The point is she knows me more than you, and she has a certain amount of trust in me."

"Her carnal knowledge of you isn't really the best case you can put forward here, Josh," CJ explains, frustrated.

"She could stay with me," Mandy pipes up happily.

"No, she can't," I answer.

"Why not?" Mandy and CJ ask simultaneously.

"With the lies she tells?" I exclaim, facing CJ. Come on, CJ, work with me here! As much as I don't think Donna would be surprised with any information Mandy decides to share, it doesn't mean I want her to spend her time here only learning about this side of me. "I'm not letting her near Donna."

"My my, Josh, aren't we a little touchy?" Mandy smirks at me. "I promise, we won't talk about you."

"She's not staying with you." I'm adamant about this. I don't want nightmares of Mandy opening up a bottle of wine and sharing all my dark secrets, or more likely, embarrassing moments.

"I think she likes me," Mandy replies tartly.

"She doesn't, she was just being polite," I shoot back.

"Really. And how would you know?"

"Mandy, no one likes you. That's how."

"Are you two done?" CJ interrupts before we descend into second grade behaviour. "I do actually have better things to do with my time, and Josh, you have to meet with Leo."

"She started it," I mutter. Mandy sticks her tongue out at me. Having a kid has really brought about the inner child in Mandy.

" _Josh_."

"She's staying with me. It's not up for debate," I say firmly. Both women look at each other and know that's not a tone they can compromise with. CJ resigns herself to that fact.

"There will be rules, Josh."

"Right," Mandy snorts. "Because he follows them so well."

"It will be a platonic sleepover. Nothing more."

"I don't care what it is, as long as I don't read about it in tomorrow's newspapers," CJ asserts.

"I promise."

"So that's it then? Nothing else to discuss? Fine, go do whatever it is you're meant to be doing right now and get the hell away from me." CJ shoos us out of her office.

"Hey, Josh, do me a favour?" Mandy starts as she makes her way to the door. I hold back, waiting for her to continue. "Wait an hour before you tell Toby."

"Why?" I'm puzzled.

"I need to go find a camera to record this for posterity," she teases. At least, I think she's teasing me.

"Go jump off a cliff without a parachute, would you?"

"Oh, that's original," she deadpans.

"Mandy, your simpleton mind has trouble comprehending anything more than, you know, simple stuff."

"Uh huh. Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, Laurel and Hardy—what am I saying, I just insulted comedy genius," CJ mutters.

"CJ?"

"Would you two idiots just leave my office already?"

"I think she means us," I snicker, looking at Mandy.

"Harvard really paid off, didn't it, Josh?"

"You forgot Yale. Everyone always forgets Yale."

"That's because we don't care. Now let's leave CJ alone, idiot boy."

"You realise that she was actually referring to both of us as idiots?"

"No, she just meant you."

"Mandy, do you not understand English?"

"I do, I just know that you're idiotic enough for two people."

"You really do live in your own little world. It's a good thing Richard's sane or I'd be afraid for Rose's—" Mandy turns sharply and glares at me. I'm sure CJ is enjoying that in ten seconds flat my mouth clamps shut and instead I slowly start to back away from the mad woman.

"Josh, don't bring my daughter into this."

"Sure," I gulp, quite inelegantly.

"Good," Mandy says, grinning as she walks away.

"That woman loves to play with me."

"Josh, face it, we all do."

I chuckle, shake my head and start to make my way out of CJ's office, again.

I'm at the door when CJ stops me. "Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"When are you meeting with Leo?"

"I'm about to check with Margaret when he has a minute."

"You want me to be there?"

"You think it would help?"

"No. But I figure you could use the support."

I remain quite for a moment, wondering if I should voice my thoughts.

"I've been thinking," I say as I close the door behind me again. "What good is it going to do telling him?"

"Josh." Her tone is clear: Don't go there.

"Seriously, what exactly is Leo going to do besides chew me out?"

CJ looks at me, realising the truth in my argument. The fact is, Donna and I will get this marriage annulled, she'll go back to Boston and I'll stay here. Nothing will change; no one will be any wiser. So what exactly is the point of telling Leo?

"Unless you plan on keeping Donna locked up in your home, chances are Toby will bump into her, you should at least tell him, Josh. And Leo, well…" she sighs. "Do you really want this to be something he finds out ten years down the line when you can joke about it? Is there any point in telling him? Probably not—there's not much he'll need to do unless this becomes public knowledge. But it's his house, Josh; he should know what's happening in it."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Take Mandy with you."

"Why?"

"Because when things get heated she'll work her magic and annoy the crap out of him. Leo will pick the lesser evil and you two can join forces to fight the good fight, or whatever. He'll forget he was mad two minutes ago and everything will be fine."

"Mandy," I clarify, still somewhat incredulous. CJ has a point. We all tend to drown out the voices when Mandy goes off on one of her tangents.

"Yeah, just give her a few minutes. She wasn't kidding about the camera."

"You're funny." Sarcasm is rolling off me in waves.

"You know, for someone who's showed off his dancing prowess so well at functions, it's a shame those skills don't transfer to the bedroom."

"How is it that you've managed to work with Mandy for over six year and still haven't caught on to the fact that the woman tells lies?"

"How is it that I've worked with you for over six years and still have yet to understand how you mangle the English language to suit your own perverse needs?"

"Seriously, I'm sure she has me confused with some other poor schmuck who was sucked in by her for a while."

CJ grins. "Hey, twinkle toes? Get out of my office already."

* * *

"Would you like to dance?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Donna almost chokes on her drink and tries to bite back a laugh.

"Nothing," I mutte,r utterly mortified.

What the hell possessed me to ask that?

Donna has a look of concentration as she openly stares at me, her eyes squinted in an adorable fashion. "I have to wonder if you are okay," she states, with a curious air.

"Any particular reason?"

"I count at least seven beautiful brunettes in the room, not to mention the stunner sitting not two feet from you," she nods, pointing to Mel. "And yet," she sighs in an exaggerated manner, "I have yet to hear a single lame pick up line."

"Brunette's aren't my type," I shoot back automatically, throwing a pre-emptive glare in Mike's direction before he gets any ideas about interrupting. Mike throws back an indifferent shrug, grinning, and then continues to flirt with Mel.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," she answers, as if she doesn't believe me.

"It's true," I defend.

She snorts.

"That was rather inelegant of you, Donnatella."

"Josh, every time I've had the misfortune of bumping into you, you've been bewitched by a petite brunette." She takes a sip of her drink, and adds, "Lame pick up lines are all that I've heard come out of your mouth."

I grin. "Jealous, Donna?" She's right; every time we've met over the course of the past few days, I've been otherwise engaged with women of the dark haired nature. So there's no point denying it.

Donna smirks and gestures to Melanie to take the lead, who nods empathically. "'Hi, my name's Josh Lyman. Do you like the name Lyman, because it will be yours one day,'" Mel sniggers.

"Was that supposed to be an impression of me?" I look to Mike for support; he grins, and distracts Mel by kissing her.

I do not use pick up lines. At least not ones that bad.

"She was being nice," Donna sniggers. "Your pick up lines were worse."

"I think you have me mistaken with someone else. I don't need to use those methods to attract women."

"Right, they flock to you," she mocks.

"I can't help if they find me irresistibly charming," I grin, offering what I hope is a charming smile.

"And yet, here you are, beautiful women all around and instead of enjoying a pleasant evening with one of them, you're sitting here annoying the hell out of me."

I shrug in answer. There's not much I can say in response to that. I'm trying not to think about what it means that given the chance, I'd rather sit here with Donna, arguing with and being mocked by her, instead of spending an evening with a beautiful woman doing… other stuff.

"I'm sitting with a beautiful woman who likes to harass me." She offers a blush and I can't help but add, "There isn't anything that turns me on more than that." I grin and dodge as she makes a move to hit me over the head.

It's been near misses and fifteen second verbal sparks since she first berated me for using lame pick-up lines on her friend. All I can think about are the awe inducing put downs I've received in response to my attempts of being charming. It's not a natural state of being for me, as much as I like to think otherwise, and yet every time I'm around her it doesn't matter because I walk away with butterflies.

And it's only because of the alcohol running through my system that I can admit this, almost forty eight hours since we first met and I can't stop thinking about her.

I'm not about to let opportunity waltz on by.

I hold out my hand and smile. "Care to dance?"

She has her sceptical face and protests, "There isn't any music." However, she places her hand in mine as she says this, so I don't feel like a **complete** idiot.

"That's because they don't want people dancing here, they want them going to the nightclub on the other side of the casino, paying the huge cover charge," Mel announces, removing her lips from Mike's for a moment.

I almost forgot Donna and I weren't the only ones here.

I contemplate that for a moment, but I'm not a nightclub kind of guy. Let's be honest, there would be too many other men in there that would attempt to hit on Donna, so, you know, we're not going there.

"I could sing." It's safe to say we're all feeling the alcohol induced buzz.

"Oh, this I have to hear," Mel goads, as Donna asks, "You can sing?" She has her sceptical but intrigued face on now, her hand still firmly locked in mine.

I ignore Mel. "I don't actually know, but I could give it a try."

I just offered to make an ass of myself. That has to score me some points.

"Go for it," she smirks, gesturing with her free hand for me to start singing.

"Only if you get on the dance floor with me," I say, pulling her into my arms. I shoot a look of triumph to Mel as Donna settles comfortably without any protest.

"But there's no music, Josh," Mel points out, again. "As much as I'd love to hear you serenade Donna, it isn't going to do much for me while I'm dancing with Mike."

"And I should care about that because…?" I ask. Donna turns in my arms to face Melanie and Mike, and it's not lost on any one of us, except quite possibly Donna, that she remains in my arms, which are now wrapped around her, coming to rest on her stomach.

Mel grins and pulls Donna out of my arms. "No music. No Donna." Mike takes this moment to kiss Mel again and Donna sighs disgusted, announcing, "Donna doesn't need music. Donna needs to get drunk."

I smirk. "You could get high off my charm instead."

"With pickup lines like that, it's no wonder Mike was on a mission to get you laid," she shoots back.

" **Was** on a mission? Does that mean the mission is now going to be accomplished?"

"Oh god," she groans, reading the very apparent innuendo. Mel and Mike are happy playing tonsil hockey and I'm grinning at her discomfort. I don't know if it's that she looks cute when she pouts, or that by now it's quite obvious it wasn't Donna that was interested in Mike earlier, but I'm happier now than I was at the beginning of this evening. "I really need to get drunk."

"See, a guy could take offence at that," I shoot back. Melanie may be happy being mauled by Mike, however, as much as I'd hope otherwise, my charm really doesn't seem to be working for Donna, as she looks ready to call it quits for the evening. Or get drunk.

"If you see a guy, ask him if he would."

"You're funny!"

"I'm too sober," she complains.

"If it helps any, you're cute when you pout."

"I'm too sober to fall for your pick up lines, Josh."

And that's my cue.

"Yeah, we should really get you a drink."

"You should have worn a tux."

"A tux?"

"Yes," she nods. "You could have the done the Tony Bennett thing with the tie," she says as she trails her hand across my chest, studying it intently.

She's been nursing her fourth cocktail for the past half hour, which is roughly when she declared her state of severe tipsiness.

"Yeah?" I smile.

"Yes." She nods. "I think you'd look very handsome in a tux. I bet all the girls would love you."

"All the girls love me anyway." A fact that doesn't matter to me as long as** this** girl likes me.

"Ego isn't sexy, Joshua," she reprimands. Although she's holding back a smile, so I'm thinking she finds me somewhat sexy. At least I'm hoping she does, and living quite happily with that delusion.

"I haven't had any complaints." It's not a lie, per say, as, with the exception of CJ, women who complain about my ego tend to be doing it while flirting with me.

She gives me her sceptical face. Her sceptical face is really quite entrancing.

"Did you bring a tux?" And we're back to this again.

"No," I laugh, "I didn't think I'd need one this weekend."

Her eyes start to crinkle and a delicious pout forms on her face. She looks around for a moment and then starts to leave. "Let's go get you one."

"How about we hit the dance floor instead?"

"There's no music, Joshua," she points out, impatient. "Now, where can we find you a tux?" She stands up and starts to look around.

I laugh and pull her back. She stumbles and falls into my arms, and it's amazing how well she fits. "What?"

"Let's go find you a tux," she says, stressing each word as if she's talking to a child.

"Donna… are you drunk?"

"No." I give her** my** sceptical face. "Ok, well, maybe a little," she says, holding up her forefinger and thumb less than an inch apart, after which her arm promptly goes back around my neck.

"Uh huh." The way she softly plays with the hair just above my neck is really quite distracting.

"So, we're not going to find a tux?"

"Maybe next time."

"But we only have today," she pouts.

"That's not set in stone you know. We could maybe go for dinner, say… Monday." And Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. I could free up a lifetime for you, if you wanted.

The sappy stuff has really got to stop. I'm lucky Mike isn't here to read my mind and mock me for it.

"No, we really can't."

"Friday then. Pick a day, any day."

"Nope. That will not work either I'm afraid," she shakes her head. The effort leaves her looking adorably disorientated.

"Why not?"

"I— … I think we should go find you a tux."

"You really are drunk," I sigh. I try my best not to sound disappointed, but it's quite difficult, considering how disappointed I am. "I should take you to your room."

"No, it's ok. I'm only slightly drunk," she says, leaning against me. Instinctively my arms wrap around her waist a little tighter and I'm loath to let her go. "I'm a happy drunk. We don't have to find a tux. We can stay here and dance," she smiles.

"How about I take you to your room now and you can go to sleep?" She pouts and then tucks her head in the crook of my shoulder; her breath dances along my neck and an involuntary shiver runs through me. I find myself holding her even closer and breathing in the scent of her hair. "I'll find a way to make you happy all over again tomorrow." I whisper the promise in her ear and this time the shiver runs through** her** and I have to suppress the urge to kiss her senseless right here and now.

"No. I think we should stay here and dance," she asserts, ignoring the small fact that we're not actually dancing. It would be amusing if it wasn't so obvious it's time to call it a day. "Or maybe you should drink? Would that make you want to stay? I could go get you a drink—you can have some of mine."

"I want to stay, Donna," I sigh, disappointed. "You have no idea how much," I mutter. "Trust me. But I think you've had enough."

"We need to get you drunk," she says with affection, completely ignoring what I just said. This woman has no idea the kind of effect she's having on me and that in itself makes me want her that much more.

"We need to get you to bed."

"Want to join me?"

"Donna!"

"I'm good in bed."

"Ok," I struggle for patience. "Do you remember your room number?"

"No," she shakes her head. "But the bar is right here. We could get you drunk."

"I think you're more than drunk enough for the both of us."

"I'm a happy drunk though," she repeats, "And you're a boring… sober person."

"And you've lost the ability to shoot back witty quips," I mutter.

She shoots me a confused look and reiterates, "You're not drunk."

"No."

She gets a twinkle in her eyes, as if she's suddenly remembered an important fact. "You can't fail in your duties. And you're dangerously close to failing," she asserts, proud of her argument.

I'm lost.

"My duties?" I grin.

"Yes, you're here for a Bachelor Party, you're supposed to get drunk, Josh," she whines adorably. I grin at her logic and step back as she points an accusatory finger at me. "Come and get drunk," she continues, grabbing my arm and heading back towards the bar, which would have a better effect if we weren't already standing right next to it.

"So these duties, what else do they include besides getting drunk? Because you've only actually mentioned the one thing and that doesn't constitute the use of the plural."

"That's not the point," she says after a moment of silence. "Shut up and come get drunk."

"I was just saying—"

"And I said** shut up**."

"Oh, how I love the way you sweet talk me, Donnatella," I whisper.

"Josh," she says breathlessly. "Shut up and kiss me."

"Okay—wait, what?"

Donna ignores my bewilderment and takes a step closer, if that's possible.

"I was just saying," I repeat dumbly.

She takes another step and gives me a radiant smile, her eyes clear. She leans just a fraction closer, every inch of her body pressed against mine, and I'm acutely aware of how she smells, so delicate and alluring. I know I should pull myself away; she may not be drunk but she's definitely not sober, but she's so completely arresting that I'm lost. She whispers so delicately that I almost miss the words, but the shiver that they induce leaves me motionless.

"Josh… Shut up and kiss me."

I can't help it. I do exactly as she asks.

And I know without a doubt, those words and this kiss will haunt me forever.

" Shut up and kiss me."

* * *

**Post Script**: I stopped watching the show over two years ago, and decided to finish this story with the voice I started it with. I realise that The West Wing will have developed Josh & Donna in ways I'm not familiar with and so this story will most likely not match the characterisation that you see now.

But I hope you still enjoyed this.

A special thanks to Brandy for reading and providing assurances when they were needed.

**Feedback?** Love some.


	6. VI

**_So Disclaimers et al. in part 1_**

**Acknowledgements:** I'd like to share writing credits with Kerry, who won't allow procrastination, never fails to bring the funny and manages to provide inspiration whenever I need it.

Thank you **_so_ **much!

Also, thanks to Caz for prodding and beta'ing this chapter.

* * *

**When I First Met You**

**VI**

"Chloe, get me ten minutes with Leo!" I shout to any number of staff milling about in the operations bullpen, hoping that somewhere in the mass, my assistant heard me. I walk the short distance back to my office and come to a halt at my door, a sense of déjà vu hitting me as I look the scene ahead. I lean against the frame, one leg crossed over the other as I soak her in; completely oblivious to how tantalizingly beautiful she looks in profile against the window.

Before I can signal my return, she turns and pins me with a look. For a fleeting moment I think she's contemplating kissing the hell out of me, and that's when Donna's voice in my head corrects, _you **wish** that I was contemplating kissing the hell out of you_.

I choose not to read anything into the fact that I've known the woman less than seventy-two hours and already she's in my head. Instead I focus my attention back to the live version of Donna and it'sthen that I realise the _look_ is actually one of the '_You're busted!'_ variety, and not the preferred, '_You're a delicious hunk of man meat and I can't wait to sink my teeth into you' _type.

My office doesn't hold any secrets that would lead to the need for such a look. So the only logical conclusion I can come to is to assume that in the brief ten minutes Mandy spent with Donna, she spilled the beans on some of my more embarrassing moments.

It's a frightening concept when your ex-girlfriend takes great pleasure in preparing short stories to humiliate you at the drop of a hat. I have, however, become quite adept at neutralising any damage Mandy manages to invoke.

"Mandy strives to make me look like an idiot." It comes out of left field and I admit I should have started with a more coherent sentence, one that had more substance and could have knocked the _busted_ look right off her face. The only problem being, I failed to _find_ such a sentence in the three seconds before my mouth took over from my brain and decided to blurt out the first thing that was kicking about in my head.

"I can't imagine she has any problem doing that," Donna smirks.

"That's not very nice, Donna. I'm trying to impart words of wisdom and instead of showing adequate levels of appreciation, you decide to mock me."

"In my defence, you make it so easy." I shoot her an annoyed look. "I apologise," she smirks, looking not at all apologetic. "Please, continue."

I ignore her obvious amusement at my expense and work toward the higher goal: undoing the damage Satan – I mean Mandy - has done.

"It would be in your best interest to ignore everything Mandy says. The word '_truth'_ is not in her vocabulary." It's information that everyone should have. And lucky for us, most people working in this building do. Its part of the induction… _To your left is a fire exit and to your right is Satan's office. For your own benefit we advise discretion when using this corridor. _It's the visitors who fall through the cracks.

"That's good to know," Donna grins. The _busted_ look has taken a back seat to the now prominent, '_you are an adorable dufus'_ look. I amaze myself with my ability to read her. I am also somewhat frightened by _her_ ability to read _me._

"Your assistant seems nice."

Huh?

"Chloe?" I ask. Befuddled would adequately describe my disposition at this present time. I also do a quick mental recap of the past two years that Chloe has worked for me for anything that would remotely interest Mandy and furthermore compel her to regale it to Donna.

I am becoming increasingly alarmed to think of just how much ammunition Mandy may have.

That does not bode well for this turn of conversation.

"You have another assistant?"

It's quite possible. "No?"

"Are you sure?"

Given Chloe's mood swings I'm almost positive several people lurk in her head.

"Is this going anywhere?"

"She seemed like a nice woman." That she is. Sometimes.

"You mentioned that already."

"She's a good assistant?" Donna asks as she settles comfortably in my chair.

"I think so." I follow her lead and take a seat opposite her.

"So if you asked her to do something, chances are she wouldn't forget?"

Never.

The woman is anal about getting things done. She manages to go into a two week funk if she thinks she's failed in some respect.

"Not usually."

"She must have blacked out when you asked her to book my hotel room then."

"Ah," I nod in understanding. "That."

Busted indeed.

"Yes, that."

"Now that you mention it, Chloe is prone to blackouts now and again. We think it's a residual side effect from her sorority days."

Chloe is of course, not prone to blackouts. Imitating Ainsley with her annoying run-on sentences that have you confused before you get past the second word? Definitely. Blackouts? Not so much.

She's as sweet as a button and without a doubt the best assistant I have ever had. Even if she does suffer from severe mood swings and a multiple personality disorder.

"I see."

"I can explain."

"There's something to explain?" she asks in a faux innocent voice.

There is the little fact that I never asked my assistant to book you a hotel room because I wanted you to spend your time here in DC with me, but beside that, not much really.

I'm thinking that's one little gem of information I should probably keep to myself.

She has her _angel_ face on, but you can clearly see the devious glint in her eyes. She's waiting for me to say the wrong thing so that she can pounce. (Also, side note, the mental image of her pouncing? Not only quite the turn on, but feels like something I have a passing familiarity with. I probably shouldn't say _that_ out loud either.)

"You could be a little nicer," I throw out, attempting misdirection. You'd think for a politician I'd be better at that, since it's meant to be a professionally acquired skill and all.

How I've managed to succeed thus far is a mystery to everyone.

"And why is that?" she asks, her eyebrows raised. She's not even pretending to be distracted. Amused? Yes. Distracted, not so much.

"I survived CJ."

"Congratulations," she deadpans.

"It's because I'm da man."

"Because you're the man," Donna repeats, not at all impressed. She also sounds a little sceptical.

"She fell for my charming personality and couldn't in good conscience, you know…" I gesture to articulate my unspoken words, because quite frankly, I have no idea where that sentence is going.

Donna decides to eloquently fill in the blanks. "Kick your ass."

"Kick my ass," I agree with a nod.

"And yet, I'm still none the wiser about why your assistant blacked out when you asked her to book a hotel room for me."

"I was about to explain that." It's safe to say that she knows I was about to try my best to avoid explaining that.

"That's what you say."

"You don't believe me?"

"Rarely."

"I'm wounded." I'm grinning as I say this so the effect is somewhat lost.

"Well, your credit card is about to be wounded as well."

Non sequitur, much?

My _credit card_?

"My credit card?" I ask, confused.

"I took the liberty of removing it from your jacket."

"And my jacket is forever thankful for the lighter load," I shoot back.

But, again, my _credit card?_

She sighs dramatically. "I felt morally obligated to ease the burden of that rumpled piece of sackcloth you call a jacket."

"Again, my jacket and I cannot possibly adequately express our gratitude," I answer, with a _pinch_ of sarcasm. "However, we are both somewhat puzzled as to what brought on this act of kindness."

"You're a busy man."

"I'm glad you noticed."

"So busy in fact, the stress is causing memory loss."

"Like I said—"

"So I decided to knock one worry of your list."

"You decided to do that, _how_ exactly?"

"Well, I say stress, but it could be old age," she ignores me without much effort.

And on a much more important note, I am _not_ old!

"I am _not_ old," I flare.

Again, she ignores my very valid argument.

It's really quite disconcerting.

"Since I'm here because of you, the least you can do is pay for it." Following her line of thought is as easy as telling myself I'm a Republican. At my blank look, she clarifies, "For my hotel room."

Crap.

"You, uh… you don't need to do that," I reply with apprehension.

"I don't?"

"No, uh… I'll have my assistant do it."

"This conveniently brings us back to why she didn't already do it, and why she doesn't seem to even remember you asking her to do so."

I have no reply to this, so when in doubt, deflect.

"Wait… you took my credit card?"

"You have a problem with that?"

"No," I answer, uncertain.

I should be worried that she has taken a hold of my credit card, right?

Never actually had a woman do that before.

"Good answer," she nods. "Now, where shall I stay?" she ponders. "Hmm, I've heard good things about The Four Seasons."

She has to be kidding, right?

_Right?_

"You want me to pay for you to stay at the Four Seasons? One of the most expensive hotels in D.C.?"

"One of the _classiest_ hotels in D.C."

"I can show you somewhere much classier." Wow, I think I almost leered there.

"You're going to say the Lincoln Bedroom, aren't you?"

"Uh… yeah, sure." Suffice to say, I _so_ was not going to say that.

"The carved rosewood bed measures 8 feet long by 6 feet wide and was purchased by Mary Todd in 1861 as part of the refurbishment of the White House. Ironically, Abraham Lincoln never slept in that bed or in the bedroom which honours his name and presidency." It's almost as if she channelled one of those English antique show presenters that have orgasms over finding a hundred year old tea pot that some-blowhard monarch owned and _might_ have drunk, funnily enough, tea from.

And is it wrong that that turned me on? You know, just a little.

"And I need to know this why?"

"I don't know, maybe the President will give you a pop quiz someday. You really should know about the place you work."

She's a trivia buff? Go figure.

"Not that this history lesson isn't fascinating, but we are losing focus on the matter at hand."

"Ah yes. Your inability to answer a simple question."

"To be fair, I don't even remember what the question was."

"Why, when you quite clearly told me that you had your assistant book me a hotel room, does she claim that she was never issued such a directive?"

"Right. That question."

"Yes," she starts with her own smile. "And as entertaining as it is for me watching you dodge the question, I'd like an answer. Today would be nice. In the next thirty seconds would be perfect."

"So here's the thing," I start, slightly sheepish, only to be blissfully interrupted by my assistant.

"Josh? You wanted time with Leo."

"Yes," I answer full of glee. Donna glares at me. I should probably tone down the glee.

"Margaret said you can have ten now."

"Great," I grin as I _literally _jump up from the visitors' chair. Donna continues to glare at me. "I have to go see Leo," I inform her unnecessarily.

"One sentence is all I need, Josh."

"Yes, but my explanation has so many intricate layers, one sentence isn't going to cover it." I amaze myself with the crap I come out with sometimes. It looks like I amaze Donna with it too. "Leo can't wait."

Donna moves her razor sharp orbs from me to Chloe with what can only be described as light speed and asks Chloe for confirmation.

"Will Leo be offended if Josh takes five minutes to tell me why I don't have a place to stay tonight?"

Chloe, not realising that it would be in her best interest to back me up here, shakes her head vigorously.

"Chloe says you can spare a few minutes to answer my question," Donna states, triumphantly.

"Chloe is not Leo." I point out the obvious. "And trust me when I tell you, Leo is not the kind of man who would appreciate your squandering his time in this way. Isn't _that_ true, Chloe?" I glare at her, communicating without words that she really shouldn't disagree with me here. She looks like a frightened deer with her eyebrows scrunched together and nods her head vigorously.

"Chloe, you realise it's the US taxpayers who pay your wages, not Mr. Ego over here, right? You don't need to agree with him."

"And I help decide what the taxes should be spent on," I remind them both quickly, before Chloe even thinks of siding with Donna again.

"And here I was living under the delusion that the President and Congress made those decisions," Chloe mutters slightly louder than I think she meant to.

"I'd like to take this moment to thank whatever deity that may exist for that," Donna quips, while Chloe takes the opportunity to disappear outside, and out of harms way.

"I'm all powerful," I grin.

"You're all something," she states dryly.

"All man," I reply as she raises her eyebrows, presumably to mock me. "If you want proof, may I refer you to last night?"

"Haven't we already had this discussion? Should I call Mandy back in here?"

I shoot her a look. "You know, I'm pretty sure some words were said earlier."

"Only some?"

"Mandy Lies, with a capital _L_."

"I heard you the first time."

"And yet you choose to ignore the message. '_Should I call Mandy back_,'" I mimic her, quite appallingly.

"If you would see fit to answer my very simple question, I'm sure I could find my way to ignoring all the stories that Mandy has so kindly told me about you," she smirks.

Not falling for it, Donnatella. Instead I'm going to happily face Leo and—okay, I probably shouldn't be all that ecstatic about facing Leo and informing him of my marital status with regard to a woman _engaged_ to a congressman.

"I'm gonna go see Leo," I start, making my way out as I speak.

"You do that."

"Stepping over the threshold now..."

"That's okay, Josh, you have to come back to your office sometime; I'll still be here, ready to listen to those intricate layers of explanation!" Donna manages to squeeze in those last words before I close my office door behind me.

"She's pretty," Chloe says casually, joining me on my way to Leo's. She's handing me sheaths of papers with no instructions as to what to do with them, so I shuffle 'em like I'm paying attention and then hand them back.

"Yes, she is," I agree. Chloe takes a moment to smile at the dreamy quality my voice just took on. I clear my throat. The moment's over and now she's frowning.

"Josh, you need to read the information that would normally have taken over a day to gather but which I compiled in less than half an hour," she says, dumping the stack of folders unceremoniously into my hands.

"I didn't ask you to do any research." I stop short for a second to look at the folders in my hands.

"You're right." She says this like it's some revelation.

"I know." I'd remember something like that, especially when it means it's more work for me.

"Leo did. But that's beside the point. You will read the information in all these folders, and you know why?"

"Because if Leo's asked you to pull this research then chances are he wants me to work on something?"

"That's a good reason," she asserts. "But not really what I was looking for."

"Because Leo made you work like a crazed animal?"

"Bingo! If I didn't already know one Margaret is enough for him I would have thought he was trying to mould us assistants in her image."

I shudder at the thought.

"The pretty lady asked me which hotel I had booked her into," Chloe starts, apparently finished with her previous… whatever.

"The pretty lady has a name, you know."

"Is she going to be around longer than a week?"

I wish.

"I honestly couldn't tell you."

"When you know for sure she's staying, be sure to tell me her name too. And if you're taking votes, mine would be to keep her. Pretty lady is also very nice."

"And yet you don't care enough to know her name."

"If she's staying longer than a week, I'll make it my mission to become her best friend and continuously freak you out with the knowledge I shall gain on a daily basis."

"You don't need to go that far."

"I don't mind, it'll be fun for me," she states innocently. "Ordinarily I make a rule to avoid the women you date. Wouldn't go near them with a ten foot barge pole. What you see in them is beyond me."

"Yes, I know. It's something you love to reiterate at every given opportunity. You sound more like my mother every day."

"I have never spoken to your mother but I'll just go ahead and take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't meant to be."

"Whatever. Anyway, I like this one, so I'll make an exception. You should keep her. That's my vote."

"Duly noted," I grin. Normally, Chloe's rants about my significant others leads me to a single state of being: exasperated. But this total support of Donna? It's too damn cute.

And damn if I can't help but agree.

"So, anyway, she asked me which hotel I had—"

"Booked her into. Yes, I heard you the first time. What did you say?"

"I told her I didn't know I was supposed to do that."

"You didn't know you were supposed to do that," I repeat.

"And do you know why I replied as I did?"

"If I were to make an educated guess, I'd say it's because I didn't ask you to book her a hotel room."

"That would be correct."

"You know what a good assistant would have done in this situation?"

"Something illegal I'm sure," she snorts. "Do I look like I work for a dating agency? Forget it; I don't want to know your answer to that."

"Chloe, the pretty lady is currently not very happy with me." There may have been a _slight_ whine to my tone just now.

"And that's my concern because…"

"I'm your boss and I write your evaluation is the answer that springs to my mind."

"I'm your assistant, and not, you know, your love life co-ordinator, is the comeback that springs to my mind."

"And I thought we were friends."

"Some friend you are," she snorts. "You just threatened to give me a negative report."

"I should probably apologise for that."

"Would you be sincere in your apology?"

"Very much so."

"Then, apology accepted," Chloe smiles magnanimously as we arrive outside Leo's office.

"You need to take medication for the mood swings, you know that?"

"Josh, you know what I'll be doing while you're in with Leo?" she asks with a menacing smile.

No, but I have a feeling I should be worried.

"I'm about to go make pretty lady my new best friend," she grins as she backs away from me.

"The pretty lady's name is Donna and under no circumstances are you to talk to her!" I shout after her as she walks away. I'm trying to stamp down the urge to run after Chloe and reiterate that she _cannot_ put me further in the doghouse with Donna. I force myself to turn my attention to Margaret and clear my throat as I try and maintain some semblance of manliness. "Is he free?"

Margaret's eyebrows have shot up and I can tell she's trying her best not run after Chloe while I'm still in the room. Smart move, Josh: advertise to the chair of the _White House Gossips Association_ that you have a beautiful and _off limits_ woman in your office. "Go straight through." Margaret points to Chloe's retreating back and adds, "I'm just going to catch up with Chloe about the… thing."

CJ. you can kill me now.

I start to close the door behind me as I enter Leo's office, but think better of it and quickly stop. "Leo, you need to tell Margaret to stay put." He shoots me an inquisitive stare. "Just… trust me."

"Margaret!"

Margaret comes scuttling back, slightly breathless. "Yes, Leo?" The man's voice can really carry.

"Stay within shouting distance."

"But—" They have a silent conversation with their eyes, after which Margaret huffs and glares at me. "Fine, but when you want information on this pretty lady, don't come to me." And with that she slams the door behind her, or at least Margaret's version of slamming the door.

"Is there something I should know?" he asks, bemused.

There are many things you should know, Leo, none of which are any good for my health.

I shrug my shoulders, the universal sign for… something. "Did I miss anything?" I ask by way of an immediate subject change.

"Surprisingly, no. You should leave town more often; I've never had such peace."

"I think you'd miss me if I left for long periods of time, Leo."

He snorts. "I think you overestimate your importance here."

"You say that now."

"You go out of town and trouble disappears. There's a connection there; that's good enough for me."

"I think trouble followed me," I mutter, and then find something deep in my chest chastising me for thinking of Donna as trouble.

"Trouble followed you?"

"Well, you know…" I shrug again, and aim for the most guileless look I can muster, not really having an answer, and not wanting Leo to delve any further.

Leo raises an intrigued eyebrow in response but thankfully, doesn't follow through on the line of questioning. "How was your thing?"

"The bachelor party?"

"You had another thing this weekend?"

You'd be surprised at the number of things that I had this weekend, Leo.

And I really didn't mean for my inner soliloquy to have so much innuendo.

"So here's the thing…" I'm stumped. How do I start this? Blurt out the fact that I managed to marry the fiancée of a congressman many in the Democratic Party are hoping to groom into one of the party's biggest players in the future?

"Josh."

"Yes?"

"You asked for ten minutes. You now have nine, so I'd get to the point pretty damn quick if I were you." My silence obviously isn't encouraging as he feels the need to rest the papers he was browsing through and pinch the bridge of his nose; Leo's way of preparing for bad news where I'm concerned. Finally he sighs and asks, "What did you do?"

Start with the basics. That's always a good plan. "There's this woman—"

"I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you this, but your love life is really of no concern to me." He sounds exasperated and amused all at once. "As long as your lovers' tiffs don't make the society pages or the tabloids," he amends quickly with a glare. Yeah, that may have happened once or twice in the past.

CJ _loves_ those days.

"As much as it pains me to say this, in this case, Leo, you'll have more than a passing interest in how events will play out."

"Fine, I'll bite. You were saying?"

"Right. Okay." Take a deep breath. I'm about to describe Donna to Leo. Really, how _do_ I start this? "There's this woman— she's just… stunning. I don't mean she looks stunning, which she does, she's beautiful in an innocent kind of way. That's not to say she can't pull off the _hot_ look either, because—"

"Josh, you're rambling."

I am. It's a testament to how nervous I really am. Not to mention, I just don't know _how_ to have this conversation with Leo.

"Right, anyway, this woman, I married her." Or maybe I do.

"You what?"

"I got married. Tied the knot. Did the deed." That's the way to do this, beat the horse dead.

"You got married."

By all accounts and from the random snippets of memory I have, I had a good time doing it too.

"Yes."

"Married?"

"Yup. Have the paper and rings to prove it too." Not to mention the dent in my bank account.

"I didn't even know you were dating anyone," he states. The shock is completely evident in both his voice and facial expression.

"I'm not. I mean, I wasn't."

"It's not what's-her-name, is it?" he asks, apparently not having heard about my lack of relationship status. Leo's still striving to grasp the fact that I'm in his office telling him I tied the knot.

"Who, Sally?"

"Sally?" I open my mouth to explain but Leo puts his hand up in an effort to stop any and all explanation. "Never mind, I don't care. I was actually thinking of what's-her-name, the redhead, but I don't want to know how many ago she was."

I shudder at the thought of being eternally linked to either of those women, or _any_ woman I've dated thus far. "No, to both... to all of them. You don't know her, Leo."

"Have you thought this through?"

I quell the urge to laugh like an idiot. I married a woman I've known less than a week while drunk off my face and he's asking if I've thought this through?

"I can honestly say that I have not."

"Be sure to tell your wife that, it's what every bride loves to hear," he mutters, for lack of anything better to say I'm sure. Finally he sighs and asks, "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday." And before he can ask, I answer his next question. "Nevada."

"You said you were going to a _friend's _bachelor party," he reminds me, incredulous.

"I was. I mean, I did." I feel like a broken record.

"You _didn't_ say it was _your_ bachelor party," he states fiercely. "I know I've been less than supportive of the women in your life Josh, but if you'd chosen to commit to one of them, you could have told me. I'm sure—"

"Leo!" I interrupt, before he has the chance to further express his unhappiness over the fact that I got married and didn't issue him with an invitation. "I didn't go intending to get married! I just met the woman!"

Leo does a double take. "You _what_?"

"Yeah, that's the other thing," I start, sheepishly. "I ah… just met her."

I'm thinking that the fact that the woman I married was-- _is_ a complete stranger should have probably come up in the conversation already.

The fact that she's engaged is probably another fact that Leo should be aware of.

I'm taking one milestone at a time.

"When you say you just met the woman…"

"I mean exactly that. I just met her. Seventy-two hours ago. I think."

"You _think_?"

He looks at me for answers and floundering under his stare I blurt, "I got drunk."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Is this some kind of joke?" I guess dropping my gaze to the floor clues him in that I'm serious, as he picks up a file and then slams it down on the desk, drawing my gaze to back him again. "Please tell me you're not serious, Josh. How could you be so stupid?"

"I was drunk," I say in my defence. As CJ pointed out earlier, it's not the best defence in the world, but right now it's the only one I've got.

"You've been drunk in D.C. before, yet you haven't turned up married; why is that?"

"Turns out it's very easy to get married in Vegas. We should probably do something about that, write a law or something."

"You're making jokes?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Is this going to hit the papers? It's not a hooker is it?"

"No! How could you… Yeah, okay, I can see why you'd say that," I amend at his look and then continue, "No, she's not a hooker, she's…" Beautiful, witty, intriguing… engaged. Yeah, not going to mention that part just yet. "She's…" I trail off again, but Leo must see something in my face.

She's stunning.

And so completely unavailable.

"Start at the beginning."

* * *

"_Josh, what's taking you so long?" Mike asks._

"_Stupid cab driver took the tunnel from McCarran," I mutter, "even though I told him not to."_

"_**I can't believe you still gave that driver a tip!" **screeches a female voice behind me.** "He blatantly ignored your instructions, yet you tipped him."**_

"_**He had a picture of his kids on the dash," **I hear another female voice say in a tone that says her words should be self-explanatory. If that wasn't so stupid, it would be cute. Just as I'm about to turn round and check out who the voices belong to, I remember I'm supposed to being paying attention to Mike._

"…_let me guess, you accused him of being a Republican?" Mike laughs._

"_**For someone so smart, you really can be gullible,"** chuckles females voice number one, which elicits a chuckle from me. **"The photos probably came with the frame."**_

"_**It was only five bucks, I didn't have any change,"** replies voice two._

_Well that's a lame excuse if ever I heard one._

"_**That's a lame excuse!" **Voice one is on the same wavelength as me._

"_**I didn't see you putting your hand in your pocket to pay the fare,"** comments voice two. I still haven't turned around, but I can tell the voices are fairly young. If I give it a minute, this could turn into a very interesting and enjoyable catfight. Might make this ridiculously long line bearable._

"_Josh? Earth to Josh! Are you there, man?" Huh? Oh, Mike!_

"_Yeah, I'm here," I sigh into the phone while simultaneously glaring at the couple in front. "There are too many annoying guests waiting to check in and not enough desks open."_

"_Good luck with that," Mike laughs. "When you get your key card, make your way down to the pool, I'm sure the view here will make up for the wait." And with that I hear a dial tone._

_This is ridiculous._

"_**This is ridiculous!" **I hear voice one complain behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals a sultry brunette and a striking blonde. **"These people need to be made aware that we have paid for the use of the Penthouse Suite--"** she bellows **Penthouse**, at a decibel level that would make Leo proud. **"You'd think they'd give us the five star treatment."**_

"_**We?"** the blonde asks. **"I don't remember a 'we' when credit card numbers were taken, Mel."**_

"_**I paid in spirit, Donna."**_

_The blonde snorts. **"Must have missed that."**_

"**_Of course you did, it was somewhere between your second bottle of wine and sixth Tequila shot."_**

"_**Stop. If I laugh anymore, I'll need stitches,"** the blonde deadpans. _

"_**I can see," **the brunette snickers. **"Stop distracting me from my point."**_

"_**I would, except it really doesn't take much effort." **Finally score one for the blonde._

"**_It doesn't change the fact that I should be in a jacuzzi with handsome men feeding me instead of this boring check-in line."_**

"_**With the way you eat? It'd be more like fat men laughing while you choke on the strawberries."**_

"_Way to ruin a fantasy, lady," I mutter. I turn around quickly to make sure my comment wasn't heard, only to find the brunette, who if I'm getting the name game right, is Mel, checking me out._

"_I'll be sure to practice safe…jacuzzi-ing," Mel grins, as she winks in my direction. _

_I smile and bring out the dimples._

_The blonde rolls her eyes._

"_Donna, be a good girl and go find out why it's taking so long," Mel says while pushing Donna forward and grinning at me._

_The blonde – Donna – shoots **me** a glare and then promptly answers Mel. "Check-in-desk computers went down half an hour ago."_

"_You knew this when we joined this god-forsaken-line, and you're telling me **now? **And when did you find this out anyway?"_

"_You were busy scribbling **penthouse suite** on muscle man's chest," Donna answers, nonchalant. "How was I to know you'd care?"_

"_He was hot, wasn't he?" Mel grins, dreamily. "I can safely predict that I will have a very enjoyable evening tonight. Now to find tomorrow's entertainment," she mock whispers, staring directly at me._

"_Okay, seriously, for the next twenty minutes don't say or do a thing; you're sober and it's not nearly as easy excusing your behaviour if I can't say you're drunk."_

"_Donnatella," Mel sighs. "**Lawyer Boy** has sucked the fun right out of you."_

"_Lawyer Boy?" Donna smirks, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow._

_Mel ignores Donna and addresses me. "Excuse my friend over here; she has no sense of fun. I'm Melanie, Mel for short."_

"_Josh," I grin, taking her outstretched hand and shaking it. "Josh Lyman."_

"_And is that Joshua for long?" she asks placing emphasis on the long, while checking me out. _

_I cringe somewhat, but when in Rome, right? So I offer a grin and respond in kind. "My friends call me Josh—I'm guessing you'll be one of those before long." I can't believe I managed to say that without laughing my ass off. So glad CJ isn't around to mock me until hell freezes over._

_The blonde groans. I turn in time to catch her rolling her eyes, again._

"_Pleasure to meet you, Josh**ua** Lyman." She says **Joshua** with a seductive lilt, and I get the impression it's more to irritate her friend than to flirt with me._

"_Oh, the pleasure's all mine, trust me."_

_"Oh, good grief," Donna mutters. Mel shoots her a triumphant look and it's confirmed, she's flirting with me to annoy her friend._

_My ego would probably have a problem with that if, you know, there wasn't a beautiful woman flirting with me._

"_Like I said, ignore my friend, especially when she doesn't have the manners to introduce herself to a dashing man like you."_

"_Oh for the love of God, shoot me now," Donna groans, to the continuing delight of Mel._

_If it's going to score me points, I'm all for annoying blondie._

"_Well," I say to Mel, ignoring Donna, "I wouldn't normally ignore your friend, since blondes are supposed to have more fun, but I'm guessing that's not true in this case."_

_Donna shoots me a smirk. It's maddeningly seductive. Her face expresses one simple statement._

_**You'll never know.**_

_I shoot her a look back._

_**Don't worry babe; don't care.**_

_Donna's response? She raises an eyebrow and is the perfect picture of nonchalance._

_But I can tell inside she's all disappointed._

_So you know, score one for Lyman._

_A cell phone rings and before either Donna or I can check, Mel purrs, "Well **hello**, Romeo, just wait a sec—I'm going to take this over there," she indicates to Donna by nodding over her shoulder._

_It becomes awkward for a moment, what with **Ice Queen **doing her best to ignore me._

"_So..." I start. Donna smiles politely, looking a little bored. Why I'm trying is beyond me. "Your friend is quite something."_

"_You might want to move forward now," Donna nods behind me. The line has been reduced down, and there's a gap between me and the couple checking in ahead. "You're kinda holding up the line."_

_I make a show of looking around. "The line that consists of you and only you?"_

_She shoots me a glare. I can't help it and chuckle in response. She actually looks quite hot when she's angry._

"_Something funny?"_

"_Nope. Nothing at all," I start; shooting her what I'm told is one of my more insufferable grins. "So what brings you to this land of everything goes?" Just because Mel isn't around to continue annoying Donna, doesn't mean I can't help the cause._

_It's not as though I'm likely to see her again._

"_Why does anyone come to Vegas?" Donna shrugs, not really answering my question._

"_Gambling? Sex?--" She snorts, and shoots me another look. **Is this the only place you can get some?** I take the high ground and ignore her. "--Drugs and Rock and Roll?"_

"_A bachelorette party, actually."_

_I smirk, staring squarely at her. "Which one of you is taking yet another unsuspecting guy into a life of eternal misery masked as marriage?"_

"_Is that the response of a bitter divorcee or a commitment-phobe bachelor?" she shoots back without missing a beat._

"_Neither," I shrug. "Just a casual observer. As **Johnny Carson** once said, **'if variety is the spice of life, marriage is the big can of leftover Spam.'.**"_

"_You know, someone once told me, if you don't participate, you can't complain about the verdict--"_

"_I'd say someone sold you a can full of crap." _

"_Nicely put," she states dryly._

"_760 Verbal, **baby.**"_

"_Is that meant to impress?"_

"_Ah," I shrug, exuding arrogance. "It's nothing compared to me attending Harvard or Yale, but it's been known to make the ladies swoon," I smirk._

_The 760 verbal** always** works._

"_Would this be with women of a less than stellar IQ, or those that were simply dropped on their heads as babies?"_

_Or maybe not._

"_Tell me which category you fit into and I'll answer."_

"_You realise at this point, the length of this conversation is disproportionate to my level of interest in it."_

_My charming personality and sparkling wit is lost on this woman._

_I hear a voice ask if I'm ready to check in and turn to see the desk clerk smiling at me like an idiot. "Saved by the bell," I mutter as I move toward the desk._

"_I apologise for the wait sir—"_

"_You know how you can make that up to me?" I point to Donna, and shoot her my most irritating smile, dimples and all. "By **not **give me the room next to her."_

* * *

"So let me get this straight. You left here three days ago, single. Now, you're back, married to some strange woman, with no recollection of how that happened. Have I missed anything?"

Yes. The most important fact of all: she's engaged to a congressman in our party.

However, Leo doesn't look like he's in a particularly receptive mood right now so I'm thinking that little bit of information needs to stay hidden for a while longer.

"Have you warned CJ yet?"

"My first call." After some pushing from Mike.

"Fine. Good," he affirms with a nod. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I ah… I think an annulment is probably the best way to go. I'm going to go make some calls after this."

"Who else knows?"

"Besides you? CJ, Mandy, Mike, and one of Donna's friends. That's her name—Donna. Donnatella Moss."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

Crap.

This is my cue. This is where I calmly, but succinctly, point out why the name sounds familiar. I could let Leo connect the dots, and lambaste me. Or I could blurt out everything in one long sentence à la Ainsley and then let Leo lambaste me.

Neither option is appealing.

But this is definitely my cue.

This is also when Margaret knocks on the door, scowl still in place, announcing Mandy is here. I'm almost positive I heard Margaret mutter something about Mandy and the pretty _blonde_ lady while closing the door behind her.

Leo appraises Mandy for a moment before asking, "What do you think about this?"

Mandy looks confused, obviously not understanding why Leo is so calm, considering the implications of my _one_ moment of drunken stupidity.

"About what?" Mandy asks carefully.

"Josh. Married."

"I think I feel sorry for Donna," she says automatically. She looks at me, silently asking how much Leo knows. "Donna married beneath her." I glare at her. "Way beneath her."

I shoot Mandy a look back: He doesn't know everything. Yet. "Mandy's just jealous I didn't marry her."

She shoots me a look in return, loosely translated as, 'W_hat are you waiting for? The Fat Lady to belt out a tune from Les Mis?' _

"Josh, you'd have to ply me with alcohol and a concoction of drugs designed to kill every single brain cell I have." She smirks. "Oh, wait, isn't that how you got Donna to marry you?"

"I'm not going to stoop to your level and dignify that with a response," I mutter, wary of Leo's mood.

Mandy smirks. "Just how much did you drink? You usually put up more of a fight before I win our discussions."

"Go take your pills."

"How you continually manage to disguise yourself as an adult is beyond me."

"If everyone has finished acting like a juvenile," Leo interrupts, somewhat amused, but mostly exasperated.

"Josh is never finished being a child, but you go ahead, Leo."

"_Mandy._"

"Hey, I'm not the one who drank more alcohol than I can recollect and then got hitched to a Congressman's fiancée, _and _didn't even know who it was I tied the knot with in the first place! Not to mention did other ungodly thi—

"Wait," Leo commands. "Go back."

Shit.

"To when?"

"_Mandy_."

"I didn't say a thing." _Now_ she decides to shut the hell up?

"_Josh!_"

"I was getting to that," I sigh.

"You know, I really can't believe you were an Ivy League grad sometimes. One would think you'd have _learned_ something at some point."

"Yeah," Mandy snorts. "Frat boy behaviour 101."

"Is there anything else you need to add?" Leo asks Mandy in the tone that means he's about three seconds away from summarily kicking her out of his office.

Mandy, the _only_ senior staffer not able to understand when she's outstayed her welcome, despite working here for six years, doesn't understand the quite obvious message in Leo's tone. If you don't have anything else I need to know: Get. Out.

Leo throws Mandy a look we've now come to understand as '_I can't believe I hired you._' A look, that with the exception of CJ, every one of us sees at least once a week.

"Well, my work here is done. I'll just…" she says while pointing to the door behind her, finally doing the smart thing and making a break for it.

What was that CJ said?

'_Take Mandy with you. Because when things get heated she'll work her magic and annoy the crap out of him. Leo will pick the lesser evil and you two can join forces to fight the good fight, or whatever. He'll forget he was mad two minutes ago and everything will be fine.'_

Remind me to return the favour one day, CJ.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

"I think the point was I… wasn't."

"Are you being smart with me?"

"Not intentionally."

"You got drunk and tied the knot with a woman engaged to a congressman in the United States Government, Josh. What the _hell_ were you _thinking_!"

A least he wasn't a Republican?

"Leo, I--"

"You _what_?"

"I'm sorry." It's woefully inadequate but it's also the best I can offer at this point.

Leo drags his hands over his eyes, almost as if he's trying to wake up from a nightmare, when in fact he's just rubbing the exhaustion from his face.

"I take it Rippon doesn't know?"

"No."

"How much of an issue is this going to become?"

"CJ doesn't think it will. I have the paperwork for the annulment ready; I just need to make some calls."

"What about Rippon?"

"Donna doesn't think he'll create a scene."

"His fiancée married another guy in a drunken stupor and she doesn't think he'll _mind_?"

I shrug. I made the same argument not two hours ago.

"Leo, your next meeting is here," Margaret interrupts apologetically.

"Tell them I'll be ten minutes and get me CJ. Now." Leo starts to organise the papers he was reading earlier as he addresses me. "You need to go make those calls," he dismisses. The fact that he didn't even look up when addressing me is a demonstration of just how angry he is.

When he's annoyed, he vents, he dresses you down, he'll shout and make you take meetings with lobbying groups that want aliens to have rights.

But when he's furious, absolutely livid, he shuts up. And everything you need to know is in his eyes.

"Leo…" I wait for his undivided attention. I'm also possibly committing career suicide with my utterance of his name.

"We all make mistakes, Josh, yours just tend to… As long as I don't read about this in the papers, or hear whispers in the District I won't fire your ass. Consider yourself on notice: One more stunt, Josh and so help me God…"

"Got it."

* * *

"_The boys were about to give up on you, Josh—David already put in his bid to take your place tomorrow night," Mike greets me. "Did you take the tunnel to get to here from the check-in desk as well?"_

"_I'm busting a gut here, really."_

_I finally make my way down from my room, ready to begin my vacation, and note that all the guys are either taking a swim or drinking beer and checking out the women. _

_Except Mike, who has his shades on and is doing a half decent impression of a gigolo working on his tan._

_Not that I have any idea of how a gigolo works on his tan, but I'd imagine Mike's doing a pretty good impression of one._

"_Yeah, I can tell. Seriously, I called you over half an hour ago." He offers me a beer and nods to the sun lounger behind me._

"_The world is against me." I'm exaggerating I know. Ask me if I care._

_Mike snorts. "That's nothing new."_

"_The computers crashed, I don't know—somewhere in this God forsaken place."_

"_You've been here five minutes and you're bitching already?"_

"_Good idea, working on your tan; you look a little pasty around the edges," I mock, and deflect at the same time._

"_Hey, it's either sit out here on the loungers, enjoy the view and soak up some sun, or sit over there and not get some all weekend." He nods behind me to the tables set in the shaded area of the pool, which seem to have been taken over by a group of no-hopers. "What's up with the mood?"_

"_There's no mood." Really. There's no mood. Where the hell does he get these ideas?_

"_When your voice goes high like that? Totally gives you away. So again, what's with the mood?"_

_There was no change in the pitch of my voice. None whatsoever. Except maybe a **little.** How the hell did he pick up on that?_

"_There's no mood."_

"_You struck out," he grins. It's a big smug smile that makes me want to smack him silly._

_And I did not strike out._

"_To strike out, I'd have to have been batting. Believe me, I was only fielding."_

"_And here I thought I was about to hit a home run," purrs a familiar female voice. I watch Mike remove his shades; he makes an appreciative appraisal of the woman standing directly behind me and deems her worthy of sitting up and paying attention. _

_He's also kinda drooling._

_Okay, so he's not. But it would have been a funny picture if he was._

_Before I turn around, I send a quick prayer to God, hoping that she didn't bring **killjoy** with her._

"_Well, hello there, stranger," I reply in the same flirty tone. No **Ice Queen **in sight._

"_You left without saying goodbye. Now how is a girl supposed to respond to that?" she teases._

_I grin. "Romeo didn't pan out I take it."_

_She shrugs in response while Mike coughs behind me, presumably to grab my attention._

"_Melanie, Mel for short, meet Michael," I introduce. Mike shoots me a look; he hates it when people introduce him as Michael to women. He says it kills his mojo, or something to that effect; my mind drifts whenever he endeavours to explain._

_He does a funny little wave. "It's Mike, for short."_

"_You're not **all long**, well that's a disappointment."_

_I kid you not; I just snorted my beer out of my nose._

"_Well…" I recover. Except, I'm still choking on my beer. "You look nice." And she does, she's in a bikini, its red, and she looks hot, and that's pretty much all I need to know._

"_Thank you," Mel winks._

"_I gotta agree with Josh," Mike grins. "So am I going to get to find out how you two know each other?"_

"_We were both stuck in check-in hell," Mel answers. "And Josh decided to help me annoy my friend."_

_Good times._

"_Speaking of which, where is the Ice Queen?"_

_Mel shoots me a quick glare. "She doesn't have glowing things to say about you either."_

"_I'm heartbroken."_

"_So I take it that's who you struck out with?" Mike decides to contribute._

"_Like I said, to strike out I'd have to be trying," I repeat. Sometimes it's like talking to Rose when she's intent on asking the single question **why**, and unless you answer with **'see that ice cream over there? Go stuff yourself,' **everything goes in one ear and out the other. _

_She's Mandy's child, you have to expect manipulation like that._

"_And you still struck out, that's… so like you," Mike laughs._

"_All I was trying to do was ignore her." Actually, all I was trying to do was annoy her._

_Ignore… Annoy… Same difference, really._

"_Funny, she said the same thing about you, yet there was obviously some conversation between you… to prompt those comments."_

_She has a point and I have no way of answering without, you know, admitting that._

"_When do I get to meet her?" Mike asks._

"_She's on her way," replies Mel. "You should probably prepare for that, Josh. Don't want you to lose the power of speech or something when she arrives."_

_I am considerably less than amused._

_I get the message. I should have prayed to ten different deities instead of the one._

"_You guys want to join us?" Mike nods to the empty chairs next to him. _

"_I'll have to take a rain check." Mel smirks in a way that means she hasn't quite reached the punchline yet. "I can't have Josh trying out his luck again; world war three is likely to erupt."_

"_She wasn't the one I was trying out my luck with," I smirk._

"_And yet, she's the one we're talking about," Mel volleys. _

_Point._

"_Only because you keep bringing her into the conversati…"_

_Oh wow. _

_Just wow._

_A light blue sarong floats around long, shapely, pale legs as they make their way across the pool._

_She looks…_

_Legs like that… should… I don't know… **Something.**_

_A stitch of deep blue is peaking out just at the sensuous curve where the sarong is tied._

_If you look hard enough, which apparently I have no problem doing, you see a slight hollow where her hip meets her thigh._

_I bypass her mid-section entirely and quickly work my way up to her face. I've lost my motor functions temporarily. And it's a bitch. No need to lose my ability to breathe._

_She smiles this amazingly airy smile as she glides closer, her eyes sparkling a shade of blue I've never seen before._

_Something close to sapphire maybe?_

_I attribute my newfound need to identify the eye colour of attractive women entirely to shock._

"_Care to finish that thought?"_

zzzzzz

"_Josh."_

_Ten minutes. She's been talking to that guy for ten minutes._

"_Josh?"_

_She's **smiling?** She's **smiling **at him?_

_She never smiled like that for me is all I'm saying._

"_Josh!"_

"_What?"_

"_Where did you disappear to?"_

_What the hell is he talking about?_

"_Do you need glasses?" Before Mike can answer, I press on, "Did you want something?"_

"_Glaring at the guy isn't going to make him magically disappear, you know," he smirks._

"_Mike, it shouldn't surprise you that I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_**Eleven** minutes._

"_Blonde, blue eyed babe, who not even half an hour ago ignored your pathetic ass. The one lounging across the pool from us, ring any bells?"_

"_What about her?"_

"_She seems to be enjoying his company," Mike comments. "Josh, if you're going to spend the rest of this weekend stalking her, give a guy a heads up, would you?"_

_I shoot daggers at Mike._

"_I've glanced in her direction maybe – **maybe**, twice." Lie. "I care about the guy she's flirting with less than I care about your sex life." Big lie. "The chances of my ever stalking her are as likely as your beating me at basketball."_

"_Josh, I kick your ass every time we play."_

"_This memory loss thing you have? It's very convenient. Selective, too." He snorts. "And why would I stalk her, anyway?"_

"_I don't know," he starts, sarcastically, "because you like her? Because for the past fifteen minutes, all you've done is glare at her? And you know, the men that approach her."_

"_You're an FBI Agent? Aren't you supposed to be good a reading people?"_

"_What's your name for this guy?"_

_**Pretty ass muscle bound beach boy.**_

_Crap._

"_She **ignored** me! I was nice, polite, tried to make small talk--"_

"_Tried to annoy the crap out of her."_

_Needless to say, glares, daggers, all aimed at Mike._

"—_And she ignored me. How rude is that?"_

_Mike snorts. "You're not attracted to her."_

"_No. Most assuredly not." _

"_So you've spent the past twenty minutes completely focused on her because she wounded your ego?"_

"_Yes. No! I mean, no. I have not been staring at her." _

"_Sure. By the way, here's your chance, Romeo, she's at the bar." Mike points to a bar behind us where Donna is waiting to be served._

_Alone._

"_Sooo… Anyone want another beer?"_

zzzzzz

"_Manhattan, please."_

"_I think you'll find this is Vegas," I quip._

"_Pity the girl who tries to get anything by you, Josh," she deadpans._

"_I try." I shrug and shoot her a smirk._

_Why am I here? Seriously, I have no idea what I'm trying to achieve here._

"_It wasn't a compliment," she sighs in that way she has that means she wishes this conversation was over half an hour ago._

"_Are even you capable of giving them?"_

"_Generally, to receive a compliment, one must do something to deserve it."_

_Point._

_I have no response to that. So I move on to the more important question._

"_Managed to tear yourself away from 'Mr Muscle' over there, huh?" Dumb, pretty ass beach boy._

"_You were watching?" she asks, looking a little freaked._

_I wasn't watching. Except I was. Not that I was watching **her**… _

"_I wasn't watching so much as..."_

"_As?"_

"_Listening to Mike provide a running commentary on the steroid-bound pretty boy trying to hit on you." Where that came from I have no idea, but hey, it'll be Mike in the doghouse, so what do I care._

_She looks sceptical._

_I don't blame her._

_Mike made a good impression on her. How, I have no idea. He was all sweet and '**hi, how are ya… nice to meet you… you have very pretty hair, what conditioner do you use?**'_

_Seriously, where the hell is the personality in that? And yeah, he didn't make nice with her hair. But still._

_Traitor._

"_His name isn't '**Mr Muscle'**," Donna gripes, searching out the bar-tender._

"_Yeah, here's the thing-- I don't care." Jackass pretty boy, what the hell do I care what his name is?_

"_So why bring him up?"_

_Because you **smiled** at the pretty beach boy, who was obviously trying to get into your panties, and **ignored** me when I was just trying to be nice._

"_It seemed like fun?"_

_She glares at me. Then gives me a frustrated smile._

"_My drink's here, so I'm going back to my seat to enjoy my time in the sun." She says every word slowly so that I don't miss the point. The message being conveyed? Stay the hell away from me, you giant annoying putz. _

_And my response to her unasked request?_

"_So here's the thing; beach boy seemed kinda gay, don't you think?" I pick up my beer and jog to catch up with her._

_Donna stops. "Josh?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_What are you doing?" she asks with her eyebrows scrunched slightly. It's kinda cute, in that '**I just succeeded in annoying her**' kind of way._

"_I'm… talking to you?" I ask, uncertain of what she's eluding to._

"_I know that."_

"_Ok**ay**."_

"_You're following me."_

_Ah yes. I shrug._

"_Your friends are sitting in the opposite direction." She points across the pool toward Mike without taking her eyes off me._

"_Yes," I say with a tone that asks, '**we know this already, so we're covering this because…?**'_

"_And yet, you're following me." _

_I'd answer, except I still have no idea why I'm compelled to do this, so… _

"_So is beach boy a Republican?" I deflect._

_Donna rolls her eyes and resumes her course back to her lawn chair._

"_Is this you asking or was this part of **Mike's** running commentary?"_

_I shrug. It's becoming a consistent theme in this conversation._

"_There's nothing wrong with being a Republican," she states, moving on._

_I stop short. "You're not, are you?" Because **that** would explain everything._

_She takes a moment to take in the look on my face._

"_Yes. Yes I am," she says with a blank expression._

_Now **I** take a moment to take in **her** expression. She looks completely serious._

"_You're lying," I state. I don't know how, but she is. She continues to give me a blank expression, but I catch a twitch of her lips and I grin._

"_There's nothing wrong with being a Republican."_

"_You know what's wrong with that statement?"_

"_If I said I really don't care would you drop the subject and walk away?" she asks with a sigh. I can see the gleam in her eyes; daring me to walk away. Slowly, the grin she's trying to repress comes to light, and I smile in response, ready to start the next phase of what ever the hell it is we're doing._

"_I could, but where's the fun in that?"_

* * *

"_I could, but where's the fun in that?"_

I'm lost in my thoughts as I make my way back to my office and walk inside.

"_Josh… Shut up and kiss me."_

It takes a moment to register the fact that there should be female of the blonde variety in my office. And there isn't.

I walk back out and find Chloe typing away on her computer.

"Where's Donna?"

Chloe takes a big, inelegant gulp of her girly drink. "Pretty Lady?"

"Yes," I sigh, "Pretty Lady. Where is she?"

Chloe's eyes light up. "It occurs to me I quite possibly should have asked this question sooner--"

"You can feel free to _not_ ask it now."

"--Who is she?"

"She's an old friend."

"An old friend? Or an old _friend_?" Chloe winks. She actually _winks_. Who does that anymore?

Beside Sam.

"Just a friend," I stress.

"_Josh… Shut up and kiss me."_

"I only ask because you seem quite cosy together." Chloe smiles airily, with her '_I know something you don't know'_ smile. "Or is she an old friend who you'd like to be your _new friend_? That would explain why you didn't ask me to book her a hotel room." Chloe pauses in her monologue to frown. "Pretty Lady is nice. I think I should book her a room, she's not safe with you."

"Ok, take a deep breath. You know how you were afraid Leo was trying to turn you into a Margaret clone? I think you're halfway there already."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Do what, exactly?"

"Insult Margaret when she's right behind you." I turn around quickly, doing an embarrassing impression of a dog chasing its tail, to find… nothing. "What are you doing?" Chloe asks, shooting confused looks my way as I make a show of checking her head.

"I was just wondering how you comb your hair so that the horns don't show."

"This is me, laughing my ass off," she states, glaring in my direction.

I shrug unapologetically. "Payback is written in your future."

"I try to brighten your day and this is the thanks I get?"

Where does she come up with these things?

"Where do you come up with these things?"

"It's what good assistants do," Chloe states, surprised that I wouldn't know this already.

"What the hell do you mean she's not safe with me?"

"Your track record with the ladies is not exactly stellar, Josh."

"Chloe, I believe we've discussed boundaries and your inability to stick to them."

"Did it look like I was paying attention then? Because I assure you that was not the impression I wanted to give."

"Chloe."

"This discussion of boundaries you speak of-- was this before or after you asked for my advice on how to break up with girlfriend number god knows what? Don't get me wrong, Josh, I'm not judging you. You're a man in his prime with power and a small amount of charm to match. Women like you; there's absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"Exactly."

"Except that your taste in women sucks."

"Thank you," I shoot back, sarcastically.

"It wasn't a compliment." The sarcasm washes right off of her. "I'm bored now. Can we discuss something other than your love life?"

I glare at her. "_I_ didn't start this conversation."

She shrugs. I count her silence as a blessing and move on.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Which question was that?"

"Where is Donna?"

"Oh, right. She's with CJ."

"Chloe!"

"You told me I wasn't allowed to talk to her! You didn't say anything about CJ!"

"You know the rule! CJ and Mandy are not allowed within ten feet of the women I date unless I'm there!"

"Ah ha! So you admit it."

"I am _not_ dating her! She's--"

"Potential?"

"You're fired!" I shout as I _run_ across to CJ's office. I skid to a stop as the door opens and I come face to face with an irate CJ.

With Donna nowhere in sight.

What the hell happened?

* * *

**Feedback? **Love Some. 


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